


Little Secrets

by jbae654



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbae654/pseuds/jbae654
Summary: The Famous 3 Years. After a devastating betrayal and break-up with Yamcha Bulma finds herself drawn closer to her alien house-guest. What starts under the pretenses of being their little secret soon snowballs into circumstances that change both of their lifes. And secrets can no longer stay secret.Nominated for The Prince and The Heiress Best Happily Ever After story!!!





	1. My House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 10/09/17 in the processes of re-writing the earlier chapters of this story.  
> When i started writing this story I had not written anything for many, many years and it took a while to find my swing and style again. The characters in this story unfortunately still don't belong to me - otherwise Vegeta would be naked a whole lot ;)  
> Please enjoy this re-write and feel free to check out my other stories.
> 
> Thank you! Your continued support and feedback means the world to me!

 

Bulma was exhausted, she rubbed her aquatic blue eyes and exhaled deeply as she pushed up and away from her desk in the Laboratory. She was exhausted, having spent all day repairing training bots and equipment for Vegeta - who kept a steady supply of them coming. Almost daily. Keeping her from other projects she had wanted, no, needed to attend to.

Sighing deeply in an attempt to release some of the frustration arising in her she turned off the lights in her Lab. Making her way up the stairs and towards the kitchen. The more she thought about Vegeta, the destroyed bots, and his constant demands, she found herself growing angry and upset with the overall situation and herself.

Damn you Vegeta she thought here I am repairing all these things like I am your silly slave! I have more important things to work on then clean up your messes. NO more. I'll teach him how to treat MY equipment better!

Her blood was boiling when she finally reached the kitchen, Vegeta was sitting at the table devouring his dinner. Bulma was not sure if the deep hunger, which had finally forced her to leave the lap, was driving her suddenly arising anger even higher or if everything was slowly boiling to the top driven by her own thoughts.

"I have had enough of you and your destructive behavior!" she screamed at him without any warning, hitting the table with her bare hand and immediately regretting it. That hurt. A lot. Trying to hide the pain she had just accidentally inflicted on herself, and not wanting to give him an easy insult target she turned away and towards the fridge.

Vegeta was eyeing her dismissively,

" Woman you will not talk to me like this!" he growled deeply, obviously annoyed and not in the least bit interested in the actual issue that had her seething this time.

"Have you forgotten who I am? You will.." was all he could continue as Bulma cut him off, her temper boiling over.

"I don't care who you are! This is my house, my house Vegeta! You are destroying my equipment, keeping me from important things" she hissed at the arrogant Prince. Desperation was boiling inside of her, Bulma just wanted a simple thank you. If not that then it wasn't too much to ask for respect and appreciation for her equipment. She worked hard! She always did and lately, everybody seemed to take her, and her efforts, for granted! Bulmas knuckles were turning white as she was gripping the fridge door more tightly, she had to fight to keep her composure. She was not going to let him win, she was not going to let him see how angry he could make her. How much his cold and callous words stung.

The past few months her and Vegeta had played this game of insults, retorts, and short fuses - and Bulma was keeping score - she was sure Vegeta was too. Unlike Yamcha, he was not only physically stronger than her, but he had a head on his shoulders, maybe not a good one, but a smart one.

"Idiot, what could you possibly have to do other than helping me get stronger!?" Vegeta snarled at her, voice deep and irritated with her antics.

"I am the heiress to Capsule Corp, you monkey! I am important!" she slammed the fridge shut, thoroughly shaking its contents as she finally turned to face him.

"Call me that again and I will kill you Woman!" his eyes gleamed with anger, his hands balled into fists, his half-empty dinner plate long forgotten. He was not in the mood for this, and if he had a line, the woman had just crossed it! Nobody called him a monkey! He had promised himself that after the demise of Frieza he would slowly, painfully, murder any fool that dared to utter the word in his direction.

"You won't! I have given you everything! A place to train, food, shelter and you monkey can't even be nice" she growled at him, doing her best to ignore the twisting deep in her stomach, hoping she wasn't going too far and leaning over the table further, her face inching closer to his. She was going to make her point clear this time. Her cheeks were flustered, yes she was going to show him his place, she was done being taken advantage of!

"I am a Prince, you have simply done what would have been expected of any servant" he retorted matter-of-factly, pushing his now cold dinner aside he got up to meet Bulma's stare eye to eye.

"I am not your servant asshole!" her voice near hysteria, as blue met black across the table, and without even thinking her hand reached for his glass on the table, with a swift motion she emptied its content into his face.

Vegeta's eyes widened in a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger, and for a brief second Bulma was truly and utterly afraid of him. He was after all a murder. something he was proud of, he had bragged on numerous occasions about the lives he had taken. The man across from her relished the kill.

She had just doused the prince's entire face and ruined what was left of his dinner. Not that he had seemed particularly interested in his dinner anymore. The vein on the side of Vegeta's head was growing at an alarming rate and Bulma's stomach turned into knots. It was now that her brain decided to remind her who she was actually dealing with. Murderer. Psychopath. Maniac. She swallowed audibly, and her previously squared shoulders slumped over, her mouth suddenly too dry.

But to her surprise, Vegeta gave her one good look of hate and disgust and turned away.

He walked out of the kitchen, paused in the doorframe and without turning to her said;

"Without me, your precious dirtball of a plant will be helpless when the Androids get here" - with that he was off to the stairs and up towards his room. Leaving a rather perplex Bulma standing in the kitchen, breathing heavily and surrounded by the mess she had created.

* * *

 

Upon reaching his room Vegeta didn't even bother turning on the light, he had excellent vision even in the dark. There was too much anger coiling inside of him to properly operate fragile earth technology without breaking it. A light switch, how pathetic was that invention anyway, the Prince was used to on-board computers doing the simple job of turning off and on the lights upon his arrival or departure from a room. He turned left straight away, towards the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and turned on the water in his shower. It had taken him every ounce of self-control not to blast Bulma to Hell - and back.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch holes in the walls in a desperate attempt to not spiral out of control. He had a long and hard training session behind him, but the desired transformation still seemed out of his reach and he was growing mad and impatient with himself.

Taking it out on Bulma's equipment was the only thing that so far had prevented him from blowing up the GR. Again.

He had hoped that his forced rest would allow him to breach the barrier he had hit when the damn machine exploded roughly 7 weeks ago, but that wasn't the case.

Having stripped of his cloth Vegeta entered the shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat of the day, his dinner drink - which was drying quite sticky - and soothe his aching muscles. Exhaling deeply he tried to ignore the annoying little voice in the back of his head that told him that he would never hurt Bulma, her fiery temper amused him and their little confrontations often were the source of his only entertainment. She was witty and fearless, keeping him on his toes while her mind was brilliant enough to build anything she dreamt up. Currently, that was training bots for him, something that deep down he was very pleased with. She kept improving them as he kept growing stronger and destroying them, a never-ending circle that forced them to interact on an almost daily basis. Something he enjoyed. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, not even himself.

But tonight she had pushed it too far. He was truly mad at her, caught somewhere between wanting to snap her fragile little neck and the urge to throw her over the next hard surface and have his way with her until she conceded to his dominance over her while moaning his name. Her reaction with the drink had been utterly disrespectful and while Vegeta appreciated her defiance this had crossed a line that had almost made him lose his temper. He had killed men for less. He had killed men for nothing.

After the GR explosion, she had stayed by his side in a fashion that had bordered on stalking, catering to his needs without complaint, they still had their verbal spars but things had been pleasant. She had waited on him like the royalty he was and the feeling had been nice.

Vegeta shuddered at his own thoughts and turned the water to cold. He was clearly going insane. The luxury and comfort provided to him by living at Capsule Corp were making him lose his edge - that had to be it.

He was Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans. Ruthless. Cold. Living for the kill. He didn't do nice.

* * *

 

**End of Chapter I**   
**Please feel free to leave me feedback!**   
**Thank you so much for reading!**


	2. Pool excursion

Bulma had laid awake all night, thinking about Vegeta's words when he had left the kitchen. His statement seemed stuck on replay in her mind and no matter how hard she had tried she could not shake them.

Maybe she was not giving him enough credit? He trained incredibly hard for a fight he had no real investment in showing up.

Earth was not his home. She kept forgetting that and she had to remind herself, he was not human. The ways of his culture and life likely differed dramatically from what she expected of him, and if she wanted to forge a good relationship with her temperamental guest maybe she needed to change her behavior a little. So many thoughts were suddenly cluttering her head, and she wasn't sure anymore if his investment in the Android-threat this was a sign that Vegeta actually might care or a matter of Saiyan pride.

Deep down Bulma wanted Vegeta to care. No matter how strange this seemed to herself. For some unfathomable reason, she was drawn to him like a mote to the flame, well aware that she would eventually get burned. Over the years she had come to terms with the fact that she liked bad boys. Guys that she shouldn't like, that would hurt her, but nonetheless, she wanted Vegeta to care. If not about this planet than maybe about shaking her head in an attempt to ban these thoughts from her mind Bulma got up on began her morning routine.

After a nice long shower, she stopped in the kitchen for a quick morning snack and a large pot of coffee, before making her way down the stairs into her lab. As she switched on the lights of the lab she froze in the door-frame - to her surprise, there were no new bots - just the one she had worked on the night before. An ominous feeling spread in her chest, Vegeta was usually an earlier riser. Stubborn and determined as he was at this time he usually had demolished some part of his equipment and dragged it in here. Often leaving it on her workbench or the floor with the silent command for her to fix it.

Bulma placed her coffee mug on a desk and scanned the Lab carefully, it didn't look like Vegeta had been here at all today. Which meant that so far no bots had been destroyed. For a very brief moment, Bulma had the urge to run outside and take a peek inside the GR, something wasn't right. Vegeta always had at least one bot down before breakfast. And after last's night debacle she was prepared for him to take revenge and drive her insane by destroying everything she had ever created for him - not just let her win like that. She inwardly winced at that thought, last night did not feel like a wine at all. Guilt? Yes. Feelings of victory? Negative.

* * *

 

"Vegeta growled as the new gravity setting kicked in, sweat was starting to spread across his forehead and his muscles were aching. Closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing he pressed on. Ignoring the stinging protest of his muscles and bones. He was going to transform and show Kakarot what it meant to be a Prince.

After last night's run-in with the crazy banshee, he had made a decision, before even leaving the shower, that he was done with humans and all their distracting little games. Done. Nothing would take his focus of his training. He was going to ignore Bulma in order to reach his goal, to finally claim his birthright. All these silly human interactions and fights were making him weak and he needed to return to his icy and isolated self. There had been a time when he could spend months alone tucked away in the dark solitude of his space pod. Content with being by himself, content with being submerged in darkness.

As he continued his rigorous set or warm-up push-ups he found himself thinking about Bulma. Stupid earthling female. He would get stronger even without her stupid bots. He would show her that he did not need her help! Matter of fact he didn't need anyone's help! His body was aching and most of all he was already annoyed with himself for being back to square one.

* * *

 

It was after Lunch and Vegeta still had not shown up in Bulma's Lab with a broken bot in tow, so Bulma decided that she would allow herself to take some quality time. It had been a while since she had pampered herself, or even indulged in things that made her happy. She wasn't a young teenager anymore but that did not mean that she couldn't enjoy herself.

Lounging by the pool in her new cute bathing suit she laid back and soaked up the sun. The sensation of the rays hitting her milky skin and warming her through and through was something she had deeply missed the past few weeks she had been tucked away in her Lab, slaving over inventions for Vegeta while trying to keep up with her regular Capsule Corp. workload.

She plugged in her headphones and relaxed. Letting her thoughts roam freely as she enjoyed this peaceful moment. Her and Vegeta had gotten closer, or at least Bulma had thought so after he blew himself up in the GR. She had taken care of him and he had actually listened to her. She chuckled at the thought, Vegeta had listened, to her. What a foreign concept, nobody would believe her that the mighty Prince had yielded her request to let himself heal - not that she had anyone to tell.

The scientist was sure that there was more to Vegeta than arrogant remarks, lips curls, and coldness. He hid so well behind a practiced wall of hate and indifference, mixed with arrogance and - on occasion - a pretty foul mouth. They had come close to another after the Gravity Room at exploded and he had been seriously wounded. There had been a few morphine-induced moments when she had caught a glimpse behind his iron walls, and she had been intrigued ever since. She frowned just thinking about it, her eyes still closed, it wouldn't do to pine away over Vegeta on her day off. She had promised herself she wouldn't think about him.

She suddenly felt silly for spending her precious quality time occupied by thoughts of Vegeta. Exhaling deeply in an attempt to let go she wiggled deeper into her lounging chair to enjoy the sun; when suddenly she felt as if she and her chair had been lifted into the air.

Her eyes flew open in utter panic, searching for the cause of this sudden shift in sensation and more importantly gravity. She didn't have to look long, there was Vegeta with an evil smirk on his face, workout towel around his sweat-drenched neck, holding her hostage on her lounging chair - mid-air! There was a confusing moment between fear and arousal as she took him in, all muscles and power with chiseled facial features and sharp pearly teeth. Fear won out.

She screamed.

* * *

 

His smirk grew. He had actually planned on completely ignoring her but stepping out of the GR to make his way to lunch he had noticed her by the pool. Well, he had noticed her almost non- existent tiny bikini first. After all, even he was just a man, hot-blooded and in his prime. The red fabric barely covering her pale ivory skin, leaving very little to his imagination.

For a moment he had just stood there and taken in her curves. He hated to admit it but she had a stunning well-proportioned body. Vegeta's eyes surveyed her lounging form, her tiny waist stood in stark contrast to her large breast, which was scarcely being contained by her small bikini top. Her long legs, combined with the bust and tiny waist made her look like the most fragile and delicate creature he had laid eyes on in a very, very long time. If space would have allowed him the luxury to develop a type - she was it! Her bodily proportions almost otherworldly, yet leaving his muscled self as the undoubted male and superior.

He felt an unfamiliar pull deep down inside of him and forced himself back to reality. Mad at himself for even thinking such stupid thoughts. Mad at her for once again distracting him from his training he had picked up her lounging chair.

He would show her what one got for insulting a Saiyan. Paying no attention to her screams, once she realized the situation, he lifted her and the chair higher, stepping closer to the pool. His dark smirk grew with every desperate noise she made trying to avoid the unavoidable. The small bikini straining to cover her full mounds with all the erratic movements coming from her.

"Vegeta! No! I am warning you!" Bulma's voice was high and shrill. Almost desperate. For a moment he considered holding out, waiting to see if she would beg him. But Vegeta was not the kind of man that waited. On anyone.

"Woman I have been warning you repeatedly" he scowled deeply at her while taking his final step towards the edge of the pool.

"Don't you dare! You Monkey!... No! ...Don't!.My pho…" but the water engulfed her before she could finish her sentence. Vegeta had tossed her of her lounging chair and into the pool. The water felt like icy needles stabbing her hot skin, invading her ears and nose and destroying her phone which had been warmed by the hot sun before callously being submerged without a fair warning.

"Don't threaten me with a good time Woman. I told you not to call me that" Vegeta said calmly while carelessly discarding the now empty chair and walking away towards the kitchen for some well-deserved lunch.

"Put some decent cloth on, you look like a whore" he casually called over his shoulder without turning around. Trying to ignore how her skin glistened when it was wet.

* * *

 

" I hate you" Bulma screamed as she emerged out of the water. Her phone was ruined. Her hair was ruined. Her makeup was ruined! In fact, the Prince of all Jerks had ruined her entire afternoon! She was more than upset at his actions, but what got her blood boiling was that he was already walking away, not even paying attention to her angry screams and with that, claiming this round as his win. Nobody bested Bulma Briefs.

Bulma stumbled out of the pool towards the house, she did not even care to grab her towel in an attempt to dry herself before entering. Dripping wet and angry she marched into the kitchen, in her blind rage she almost slipped a few times on the smooth tiles before reaching the kitchen and throwing her soaked phone into Vegeta's direction the second she saw him. Moving his head in time to avoid the flying piece of technology he fixed his eyes on her, while the phone hit the cabinets behind him. It left a dent before bursting into pieces that noisily fell to the floor. His facial expression was stoic, clearly unimpressed with her antics.

" You ruined my phone" pointing her finger directly at him Bulma was fighting to refrain from slapping him across the face. She knew Vegeta would never let her land a hit on him. Not ever. "And I will have you know that I am no whore!"

"Woman, I don't care about your silly feeling" came his reply, while slapping her hand out of his face like an annoying bug. "Now leave me alone".

"You are such an asshole Vegeta! You only care about yourself!"

Before Vegeta could reply to her angry screams Bulma had ripped open the patio door with surprising strength and was stomping towards the Gravity Room.

Her wet hair was a wild mess and her make-up, running down her face was now starting to dry. A rather unpleasant feeling. Upon reaching the machine Bulma ripped open an override-control panel near the door and began punching in a termination sequence with more force than necessary. Vegeta had followed closely behind her, his lunch abandoned on the kitchen counter.

"Woman!" now he was the one screaming. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I am disabling my equipment till you learn to be nice and apologize to me!"

Vegeta growled low in his throat and grabbed her by the shoulder, flinging her around, pinning her between him and the Gravity room. Her back hit the outside of the dome-shaped structure with a loud thud, knocking the air out of her lungs. His hands placed next to her head against the outside of the machine he scowled at her, clearly trying to keep his composure.

"I will do no such thing" he hissed through gritted teeth "Turn. It. Back. On"

His nose was only inches from her, his words pronounced in a way that made an underlying threat clear, and his eyes fixed on her in a way Bulma felt as if he was looking right into the hidden depth of her soul.

She could feel his warm breath against her skin. See were his sweat had been soaked up by his training towel. She could smell this mixture of anger, sweat, and testosterone - making her knees tremble uncontrollably. Realizing how dry her throat suddenly had become she swallowed hard, Vegeta had never been this close to her.

His Body was radiating heat and his eyes were mesmerizingly dark, keeping her pinned right where she was. Now that his nose was almost touching hers she suddenly noticed how long and thick his lashes were. How unfair. And that those dark mesmerizing eyes were actually not black at all, what was that? A deep dark charcoal grey? Just a single shade lighter than his pupils, she could see her reflection in them. Her wild ocean hair and fair skin. Had his skin always been this bronze? And dear Kami his lower lip. It was full and all but beckoned Bulma to lean in and gently suck on it.

"Woman! Are you deaf?! Turn the damn machine back on!" his hiss was almost a whisper ripping her back to the reality of the current situation.

* * *

 

It was driving Vegeta mad that she didn't respond. No quick retorts. No defiance. No fight. Where was her fiery spirit? Even more important why was she not taking any measures according to the very clear orders he had just given her? Never before had he been so close to her, something he had not considered before cornering her - this bodily closeness.

His sensitive nose had immediately picked up her smell, not even that nasty treated pool water could mask her breathtaking smell. Cherry Blossoms. The unfamiliar pull deep down inside of him returned. Every breath he took burning her scent deeper into his mind. He was fighting to stay level-headed and couldn't stay this close to her much longer - he needed an answer in order to back away with his pride still intact. She would not win this fight.

He was a Prince, and apologizing was not something in his DNA. Not even his very actions were of her concern! He would do as he pleased, after all, he was a free man. In the end, she would yield to his orders, like everyone had done before her. He was going to make her bend to his desire if only to prove a point.

The pull inside him got stronger, his stomach was turning at the thought of making Bulma bend to his desires.

"No"

Bulma had finally found her ground again, and her voice. She placed a hand firmly on Vegeta's chest and pushed him away. Correction, he let her push him away. Vegeta was strong and broad, there was no moving him if he did not allow it. Little jolts dancing down the tips of her fingers as her hand touched his broad muscular chest, he was hard. Unforgiving. Chiseled and defined.

She could feel a large scare through the fabric of his shirt and couldn't help but wonder what his skin felt like. To Bulma's surprise Vegeta remained quiet, his scowl deepened and his eyes still fixed on her as she began to walk away. Squaring her shoulders as she stalked back to the house. Bulma held her head high, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other in a steady line. She had won. And Kami she needed a cold shower.

Upon reaching the patio door she turned around to find him still standing in the same spot she had left him " I will turn it back on if you do as I ask" she said, hoping her voice would carry the sincerity of her offer, "You know where to find me when you are ready" and with that she disappeared inside.

* * *

 

Vegeta stood in front of the Gravity Room alone. His pride berating him about his actions less than a minute ago. His thoughts running wild inside his head.

Bulma had taken him, given him food and a place to stay as well as devoted countless hours to upgrading and fixing his training equipment. None had ever done anything like this for him before. None had ever done anything like this just to help him achieve his goal. None had ever given a damn. In his years with Frieza it had been very simple, obey or die, win a battle or die. That was all his life had ever evolved around and now he was utterly unsure of all the feelings arising inside of him. He was utterly displeased with them. Most of all he was utterly mad at himself for letting her push him away, for bending to her wishes.

Vegeta exhaled deeply, walking a few steps towards the cool pool and then jumping in, not even bothering to remove his clothes or shoes. The cold water stimulated his senses and allowed him to regain full control. He would not apologize, he would not slip again, he thought to himself as he let the quiet wet depth of the water pull him deeper to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-written as of 10/09/17


	3. Breakups and Predators

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-written as of 10/09/17

 

The water around her had gotten cold but Bulma hadn't noticed. She sat in the bathtub, surrounded by pink foamy bubbles. Her nostrils barely above the water allowing her to breathe lost in her thoughts. It had been one of those nights. She and Yamcha had been on a data and during their meal a bad suspicion had taken root in Bulma - he was cheating on her. Again.

The evening had ended in a loud fight inside the restaurant and he had left her to pay the bill and walk home. He never denied it. The first thing she had done upon her arrival back at the house was to take a hot bath - usually, this calmed her thoughts. But today was no such night. First, she had cried because she was so hurt, then because she felt stupid for having trusted him in the first place and then for crying and wasting her time.

Now she was lifelessly laying in the cold water, her head humming from all the crying she had done. How did this happen?

Was she never enough!? It was as if her thoughts were stuck on replay. Bulma contemplated if it was an option to just never leave the bathtub again. Smiling to herself she realized that her mother would pull her out of the tub the second she wouldn't show up for breakfast in the morning. It was nice to know that there was someone in her corner that cared - even if it was her mother.

Taking a deep breath Bulma finally reached for a towel while forcing herself to leave the tub, she wrapped it around her body and pulled the plug to let the water out. She was a grown woman and she needed to get it together. Yes, her relationship had ended, and she was determined that this time it was over for good. She was a smart and attractive woman, she stood on her own feet and was financially independent, there had to be somebody out there that would cherish her. Truly cherish her.

Yamcha would be crawling back to her in no time and when that moment came she would be ready to make him regret every single mistake. Smiling and with new determination, she fell into bed, not even bothering to dress in proper night attire.

* * *

 

When she arrived in the kitchen the next morning she was surprised to find only her mother, standing in front of the stove humming a happy melody - Vegeta was nowhere to be seen. Bulma poured herself a big cup of coffee before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Good Morning Hun" her mother smiled brightly at her while placing a plate of waffles in front of her.

Upon observing her daughter more closely Bunny noticed the young girl's swollen eyes and reddened nose "Oh darling are you not feeling well?" she almost cooed at her daughter "Do you want some aspirin?".

Bulma was lost in her thoughts about Yamcha and their terrible date the night prior, just a few hours prior she had felt worthless and humiliated and now, on this morning, everything seemed out of order. As if the world had suddenly changed.

"Where is Vegeta?" she asked, ignoring her mother's concern for her well being and trying to be as inconspicuous and casual as possible in her concern for a certain missing alien. Her head was throbbing, leaving her in a hazy cloud of reality and her thoughts.

Yamach was still weighing heavy on her mind but the absence of the Saiyan Prince bothered her even more. After their heated argument outside the gravity room, Bulma had secretly hoped that he was going to come around. She knew that he had his pride but she had been convinced that his precious GR was going to win her the argument.

Knowing full well that he was never going to utter a single sorry she had foolishly expected that he'd come up with a reason to at least talk to her. But he didn't. And now he was missing breakfast - that was not like him. Her mother's words ripping Bulma once again back to reality "The good boy left really early this morning sweetie", she placed a bottle of aspirin before her.

"He left" confusion evident in her voice, and the sudden jerky movement of her own head as she peered out the kitchen window only worsened her own headache "Where did he go!?"

"Yes, hun he left really early this morning. He said he was going to rain. Didn't he tell you?"

Her heart suddenly started racing when she heard her mother's words, without saying another word Bulma was on her feet and out the patio door. Her headache long forgotten. She headed straight for the gravity room ripping its door right open, without any regard for her own safety should artificial gravity be engaged inside. It was empty. And still on emergency override - unusable for him. Meaning he had not bothered her father, demanding the code to continue his training.

Her stomach dropped as she stood in the empty room remembering their last encounter. He had been so close, so dangerously predatorily close, and kami he was hot. Not just bodily hot, but sex appeal hot. Rippling muscles and an endless supply of power and stamina. Sighting deeply Bulma had to admit to herself that the closeness had excited her. She had been well aware that Vegeta was a dangerous man, beings all across this universe shivered in mortal agony at the sound of his name, but deep down she enjoyed driving him to the edge of his sanity. The little flicker in his eyes when his obvious need for her - well, her equipment - overwrote his bloodlust made her feel intoxicatingly powerful.

"I'm insane. Absolutely fucking insane" she whispered to herself realizing her thoughts. Perhaps her obsession for bad boys had gone too far.

Returning to the kitchen Bulma poured herself another cup of coffee, finally calming herself enough to take an aspirin and heading towards the Lab. She and Yamcha were over and Vegeta and his damn pride had disappeared to Kami know where for kami knows how long. The best thing she could do was finally get some of the work done that she had been putting off.

A few hours later Bulma was sitting over Blueprints with her Dad. Making adjustments for the encapsulation process for a new heavy hovercraft vehicle. When the world around her was getting crazy she could always count on her father and their shared love for technology. Given that she had no siblings and she didn't fully share her mother's enthusiasm for cooking and baking she had spent most of her childhood in the Capsule Corp labs with her father.

This was where some of her first truly great memories and inventions were created. Including the Dragonball radar - a device that she now realized had changed her entire life. A wave of wistfulness swept over her as she remembered those long lost days, back then her greatest wish had been a perfect boyfriend - now she and her friends were preparing for the androids, possibly the end of the world. The end of the World. It was moments like this when she envied the unsuspecting citizens she shared this world with. They had no idea how heavy the burden of the knowledge was that she carried.

The thought alone sent her stomach into freefall as she realized that she was spending precious preparation time arguing with Vegeta. He was a jackass, but he was working hard, and after Goku, he was one of their best shots. Slowly shaking her head she forced herself to focus back on the task before her. This new vehicle was going to revolutionize the way of transporting and storing an enormous amount of weight.

"I think this ought to do it" her Dad finally said, studying the Blueprint, utterly unaware of his daughter's mental absence.

"I'll have it printed with the adjustments we made and we can start on a prototype" she replied almost mechanically when she realized her Father was looking at her, obviously expecting feedback.

After printing the new and adjusted blueprints Bulma and her Father ordered parts for the prototype. Stocked the designated room in the lab with the necessary tools needed once the parts came and then each returned to their own projects.

* * *

 

Almost an entire week had gone by and she and her Father had made large strides with their new project. She was buried in work. It was well past 10 pm when Bulma finally fell into bed that night, she had gotten a lot done, and the muscles in her neck made sure to remind her of that. Slightly frowning she thought to herself that she would have made even more progress if it would not have been for Yamcha showing up right after dinner. Uninvited. Flowers and his usual apology. Not too long ago she would have fallen for the routine, his big eyes and pompous words. But this time things had been different, he had hurt her one too many times and it was time for both of them to move on.

She yawned just thinking of it again. Another fight had erupted between them when he had accused her of always dropping everything right then and there for Vegeta and that it was her actions that had lead him into the arms of other women. It had taken everything not to beat him to death with one of her mother's table lamps but she had finally managed to get him to leave. Alive.

Bulma was about to fall asleep, her thoughts drifting off to the Saiyan Prince who seemed to have vanished into thin air when she heard the water running. Instantly her eyes flew open, Vegeta was back, his bedroom was the only other room with a bathroom in this part of the house. Before she even knew what she was doing Bulma had shuffled to her feet and made the short trip down the hall, stopping in front of his door she took a deep breath and knocked.

She had decided to be the first to give in. Screw her pride, she was the bigger person. Right? Over the past few days, her resolve had only deepened with each day that Vegeta had been absent. Time was precious and she hated the idea that her actions might truly hinder the Saiyan Prince from preventing the end of the world - together with the rest of the Z Fighters.  
After a few moments - and no answer - she knocked again.

"Vegeta - it's me," she said carefully when he still didn't respond to her knock.

"Go away wench" an annoyed voice snarled from the other side of the door.

Shaking her head, trying to keep her composure she took a deep breath and just opened the door. It was almost 11 at night and she was not going to have a screaming match through a closed door.

"Woman, I told you to go away! What do you think you are doing here!"

"I a-…"

Her words died on her lips. Vegeta stood by the bed facing her, a pair of sweatpants loosely around his hips, a towel still in hand in an attempt to dry his black mane. He scowled deeply at her, clearly annoyed and not up for a late night chit-chat. His muscles tense as he had temporarily frozen in place when she had let herself in. Bulma swallowed hard as she realized again he was not only dangerous but also very, very handsome. Broad shoulders and defined chest leading to a narrow, firm waist with the deep, muscular V of discipline and sweat, leading her eyes to .. oh kami. He was chiseled - even the young Greek Gods would have been jealous.

"Woman, get out! I will not repeat myself" he growled at her, dropping the towel loosely around his neck, and snapping her wandering eyes back to his face.

"I- .. I need to talk to you Vegeta" Bulma finally breathed. She needed to get it together. Vegeta might have been easy on the eyes but he was still a jerk.

"No" his response was dry, annoyed and matter of factly. He was not in the mood for social interactions.

"Now listen here you narcissistic asshole" Bulma hissed, rage starting to build inside of her. She was here to apologize and make the first, step, but he didn't even give her the chance to jump over her shadow. He was so unbelievably rude! "I am here about your precious Gravity Room!"

"If you are here to hear me apologize you are even more stupid than you look" he retorted, not even meeting her gaze as he resumed drying his hair.

He hated to admit it but she had his attention now. He was never going to apologize but he was going to give her a shot and at least let her finish. His training in the mountains had been decent, but he favored the challenge the gravity room offered him. Vegeta had only returned for a shower and a good night's sleep - now regretting his decision as he saw Bulma in his room, hands on her hips, with a fiery gaze and that weaklings smell almost dripping from her. His face wrinkling in disgust for a very brief second - Bulma didn't seem to notice.

"I will turn your GR back on tomorrow" she finally pressed. There she said it. Seeing the smirk dancing around the corners of Vegeta's mouth she added hastily "only because I will not be your excuse when the androids arrive and you are not ready". There take that asshole!

Before Bulma could mentally pad herself on the back for her genius way to deflect and hide her own guilt that had caused her to give in, Vegeta had grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the hallway, past his door-frame, his scowl was deep and his eyes dancing dangerously.

" I don't need anyone to be ready for the androids" he growled deeply " I am a warrior I will rise to meet any challenge by my damn self" his grip around her shoulder intensified as he added "Don't overestimate your role in any of my achievements, woman. You are nobody to me"

With those words, he gave her a push and stepped back into his room. His eyes never leaving her, before closing his bedroom door in her face his dark smirk reappeared on his lips and with smug arrogance he snarled "Take a damn shower you stink like your pathetic weakling of a mate".

The door closed in her face and a perplex and angry Bulma was left in the dark hallway. The gal of this man was unbelievable, and not for the first time Bulma wished for Saiyan strength to wack him.

* * *

 

Vegeta dropped into bed, deeply exhausted and glad when he felt her turn around to stomp - loudly - down the hallway. His week had been exhausting. He had pushed himself to his absolute limits but he felt like his progress was still below par. Frustration and anger had been consuming him for the last two days when he had been racking his mind in an attempt to figure out how Kakarot had managed to ascend before him. A bitter blow to his pride that had lead him to consider just blowing up this measly planet and be done with them all.

   
Burying his face deeply into the pillow he growled in utter frustration. It had been hard to come back here - it made him feel like he was giving up, failing to reach his goal. Something that made shame burn in every inch of his body, his father would be disappointed. He had also hoped to get a full night's rest before having to deal with any of the Briefs.

But then Bulma had let herself into his room, she had clearly already laid in bed before showing up uninvited to his room. With her simple dark tank top and unearthly indecent shorts. Vegeta growled into his pillow again. It had taken everything out of him to kick her out and not throw her onto his bed to fuck her and his frustrations through the mattress.

He had seen where her eyes had strayed, smelled the pheromones that were the precursors of her arousal. His only aid in the endeavor had been the weaklings smell on her.

He was male, he was a Saiyan and he was in his prime. While this planet had him living like a damn monk. Another deep growl into the pillow. He was a Saiyan Prince and his pride would not allow him to sink to such low levels with a weak female. The woman he had fucked in space hadn't been worthy either, but they had been trophies of war. After the demise of Frieza Vegeta had promised himself that the next female that spread her legs for him would be a worthy equal. Someone as close to a Saiyan as he could possibly ever get. Bulma was not that, she was pathetically weak, perhaps not in mind, but in body.

He hated her for invading his mind, ruining his focus, chipping away on his discipline and success. He hated himself for allowing it, for noticing her and for the places his mind swayed every time he laid eyes on her. Rolling over onto his back Vegeta sighed deeply, ignoring his aching erection. Frieza's voice came to him, replaying in his mind over and over again, and Vegeta saw the young boy he had once been, listening as the lizard told him that attachments were weaknesses, and weakness was to be exploited.


	4. Late night hugs

**There is violence in this chapter. If you are easily offended or this is simply not your kind of thing. Don't read it.  
** **You have been warned.**

Vegeta was around 14 the first time he hugged a girl.  
It was his first physical experience not involving violence since becoming part of frieza's army. They had been given orders to purge a planet and things had gone very smoothly, engaged in fierce competition who can wipe out entire cities faster, with young Vegeta well in the lead. He was done destroying the last city in his sector when he had seen her, around his age, long flowing hair, and large bright green eyes. Engulfed in his high of victory and blood spill he was about to extinguish her life with his newly learned Galick Gun - a boy's got to practice after all - when she had reached out to touch his hand and pull him in a tight embrace. Begging for her life the only way she knew how. He had felt her racing heart against his body. Surprise by her actions and the comfort that arose with this first pleasant physical embrace in so many painful years he had found himself hugging her back - failing to kill her. Failing to ride this planet of all life forms. Failing Frieza's orders and with that delivering her to a fate worse than death.

Back on the ship he was reminded that Fireza saw everything, in a horrific and grotesque display of his power he found himself forced to watch as warriors from all corners of the universe took their turn. Leaving a lifeless shell that was torn limb to limb. All the while Frieza's voice in his ear, laughing, commenting, applauding, reminding him of the consequences of weakness, of disobeying. While Vegeta did his best to display that he did not care. Over the course of his life it was not the most cruel thing he had ever seen, it was also not the most cruel thing he had ever done. Yet it often haunted his dreams.

The embrace had no special meaning to him, no deep attachment, no bond, all it did was remind him of the last time his mother had hugged him on Vegetasei.  
If that was even a true memory and not an illusion fueled by the subconscious of a young boy.

Frieza's action tore that memory away from him as violent and bloody as he possibly could. Strengthening Vegeta's resolve to never need anyone but himself again. In all the years that had followed he had build not only a wall but also iron strong discipline and managed to avoid all physical contact not pertaining to battle. Exceptions were rare, biologically driven and on his terms.

Nappa and Raditz had dragged him through a fair share of bars and whore houses across the galaxies, enjoying themselves after fulfilling another one Frieza's missions. He had tolerated it, appalled and disgusted, never would he, the Prince of all Saiyans sink to a level like this.

Now he was sitting in his bed, at 2 o'clock in the morning, at the Capsule Corp compound fighting demons and urges he had buried with Frieza and his own death.

Two weeks had passed since Bulma turned his GR back on and respected his wish to not be disturbed. His training had made substantial progress since then but his frustration grew with every single day. The legendary transformation still out of reach. Unable to train it away it was starting to drive him insane.

Worse than that was the weakling who had come around again. Vegeta hated that man and the only reason he hadn't blasted him was his continued need for the accommodations the Briefs provided him. Blasting Yamcha was therefore not an option - not yet anyway. Him and Bulma fought almost daily which only aided in his utter frustration and hate of the weak earthling.

Vegeta was just about to take a shower, attempting to banish his thoughts, and sooth his aching muscles after a day of training, when he heard screams from down the hall.

It was once again Bulma and her weakling mate. Continuing to undress for his shower Vegeta suddenly noticed a change of tone in the argument and there was a loud thumping noise and then a scream of pain or was it fear from Bulma.

Before he even knew what he was doing Vegeta had made it down the hall and tor Bulma's bedroom door right of the hinges as he kicked it open. A scene of destruction stretched out in front of him. Her rooms was a mess. Random things were thrown across the floor like they had been used as weapons and thrown across the room. His gaze moved to his left, where a bathroom was adjacent to Bulma's large luxurious bedroom, what he saw got his blood boiling. Bulma was laying on the floor, holding her head with a grimaced face of pain, the smell of blood was in the air. Her blue eyes were red, tears streaking down her face as her small delicate body laid on the bathroom floor only covered by an oversized t-shirt. Standing above her was Yamcha, struggling to find his breath as he was leaning against the doorframe for support.

Bulma's vision was blurry from tears, it had all happened so fast. She and Yamcha had tried to work things out - against her better judgement she had been stupid enough to give him another shot after a night of loneliness and drinking.

Things between them had been tense for a couple of days now. But tonight escalated quickly and before Bulma knew it they were engaged in a physical fight. Over his stupid phone. She was so shocked that she had not even been able to fully defend herself.

Vegeta called Yamcha a weakling all the time and tonight she had been reminded that this unfortunately still meant that he was a lot stronger than her.

Panic had overcome her as she had tried to scream for help but realized that her parents were out of town a Vegeta most likely still locked away in the Gravity room. In an attempt to get away they had struggled against each other and she had ultimately fallen, hitting the back of her head on the hard, cold bathroom tile.

Struggling to get back to her feet, she saw Vegeta grabbing Yamcha by the throat, a whole lot of screaming erupted between them, but Bulma couldn't make out a single word. She saw Yamcha desperately trying to break free from the Saiyans death grip and moments later she witnessed Vegeta throwing her now ex boyfriend out the balcony door and over the railing. Over the railing. How high up where they again? Her breathing slowed a little,having managed to get on her hands and knees.

Still on her hands and knees she was struggling to come upright, leaning on the vanity unit for support, when she felt two strong arms encircling her and picking her up like she was nothing more than a feather. Vegeta sat her on the sink with surprising gentleness, his face a stoic mask with no emotions and proceeded to look for a towel which he wetted and then carefully examined the back of her head.

She could feel the heat radiating from his body, calming her down and allowing her to finally realize that he was wearing nothing more than a black pair of shorts. Very small shorts. Where those Boxers?! His bare chest was so close to her body as his hands carefully and skillfully maneuvered through the hair at the back of her head. He had done this before. His gaze was fixed, concentrated and his breathing shallow and relaxed. This was not even a bump in the road to him, he had clearly seen much worse and it would take more than a pathetic human struggle to shake Vegeta.

Turning his attention to her face, he carefully wiped away her running mascara and his eyes locked on hers, studying her intently. It was then that Bulma realized that he had not said a single word to her. He had marched in here and then thrown her ex-boyfriend out a window! Now he was cleaning her superficial scratches and standing _so so_ close to her that her brain was possibly melting. Her thighs were spread and he was standing between them, it what looked like underwear. The Vanity suddenly felt cold underneath her in contrast to the heat radiating off him.

Her eyes found his again only to realize that he had still been watching her, she swallowed hard.

"Thank you Vegeta" she finally breathed almost inaudibly.

Vegeta grunted , while turning her head to examine the side of her neck, "I told you he's pathetic" he finally added when he let go off her face and tossed the small towel into the sink to their right.

He was too close again. The inside of her thighs touching his, her breath feathering across his chest. Too close, he needed to get away.

"I never thought he'd do anything like this, ever. I was so scared when I realized my parents weren't home and I thought you are still out in the GR… i thought none would be able to help me" she sniveled, interrupting his train of thought and leaning against his chest. Her hands finding his back on their own accord, she was trying to hide her tears that were fighting their way back to the surface. His skin was surprisingly soft, inhumanly hot and she felt comforted and safe with her head right over his heart. From this angle she could see the large scare she had felt through his shirt a few weeks back. It started on his pectoral and ran diagonally across his chest ending just before the rib-cage. It had been deep, and her mind raced wondering what the story behind it was.

He could feel her soft and heated cheeks against his torso, small wet drops rolling down her face before meeting his skin and melting between their bodies. Her arms wrapped around him. Like a hug? A hug?! This universe was playing tricks on him, someone up there was having a grand time on his expense.

Unsure of what to do, or how to behave in this situation he picked up a clearly shaken Bulma and carried her towards her bed. The only thing he could think of doing was put her down and return to his room, wanting to leave her and this hug behind as soon as possible. He had never huged again. Those things ended bad.

But once he had deposited the woman on the bed and removed his arms from around her soft body her small hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Her blue watery eyes looked at him with a hint of terror when she whispered "I don't want to be alone tonight".

"He's not coming back, woman" Vegeta responded a little more harsh than he had planned.

All Vegeta wanted to do was retreat to his room, take a shower and fall into bed. The naked skin of her legs against him, when she had been sitting on the vanity unit, had felt too good and he needed to get away from her. Freeing his wrist from her grip he was about to step away and turn around when he heard her hoarse voice again

"Vegeta.. I am scared..I don't want to be in in this room, especially not alone.." she sniffled again "...Please…"

Her last word sounded so desperate and pleading, making the familiar pull inside him resurface. When he turned around to look at the woman her blue eyes flash green and his chest constricted in and unfamiliar, uncomfortable way. _Walk away. You did more than enough. Walk away! NOW!_ His pride was berating him and he struggled to sort out the emotions arising inside of him. _She is none of your concern. She is nobody. You don't even care. GO!_ His dark eyes meet hers, now blue again, pleading oceans and his resolve crumbled. His body bend back down over her on his own accord. He picked her up. There was no way Vegeta was about to lay in a bed that smelled like that pathetic human weakling.

Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his naked skin against her. Once they were upright again she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and nestled her face in the crook of his neck.

She felt so utterly betrayed by Yamcha. She was so mad at herself for ever trusting him and her emotions were running crazy, but being so close to the Saiyan, who not only radiated heat but - strangely - also calm and peace made her feel better. Made her feel safe. Safe in the arms of a _Murder, Psychopath, Maniac._ A man who had told her on numeral occasions that he'd hurt for fun.

She sighed deeply, breathing in his smell as he made his way back to his room. He smelled good. Deep and spicy but somehow also surprisingly fresh. Distinctly male. Bulma was brought back to reality when he placed her ,surprisingly gentle, on the bed. A wave of panic came over her again as he pulled away again and she opened her mouth in an attempt to protest but was cut off.

"I need to shower. Go to damn sleep, woman" he said dryly, while heading towards the bathroom "And stay on your side of the damn bed".

Bulma felt a little sting at his dry words, but realized that she should not push her luck. He had taken care of Yamcha, followed by her and now she was laying in his bed. _His bed._ The Prince had actually submitted to her request to not be left alone, and she did not want him to regret his decision. _There is more to him after all._

When Vegeta finally slipped into bed with her Bulma waited a few minutes before carefully sneaking a peek over her shoulder. He was laying with his back to her on his side. Torso bare. His body slowly and rhythmically rising and falling as he appeared to be drifting off to sleep. A flood of appreciation and gratefulness came onto Bulma she she replayed the evening in her mind and before she knew what she was doing she had rolled over and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nestling her face into his neck she whispered "Thank you" again.

Vegeta had noticeable tensed at her touch and Bulma feared he was about to throw her off him and the bed as well while snarling a cascade of insults at her, so she quickly added " I'll never tell anyone. I promise. Our little secret"

It was an attempt to sooth his pride that was most likely raging wildly inside of him right now. And it seemed to work, his body slowly relaxed. He didn't reply. Smiling against his back the blue haired girl relished in the feeling of his warm skin and his momentarily tolerance of her.

Vegeta laid awake all night, not moving a single inch. He felt her rhythmic breath on his back as she drifted off to sleep, her hand loosely draped over his side. He could see her creamy soft skin in the moonlight shining through the balcony doors. Her touch was burning his skin with little jolts every time her sleeping figure moved against him. He told himself that this was not an attempt to ease the grueling memory his his first hug. The loneliness that followed for years or the physical encounters in his teenage and adulthood years that were marked by distrust and as little contact as possible. The blue haired female was flush against his back. Legs tangling with his in her sleep. Frieza was dead. She infinitely weaker than him. It was okay, he was still in control. Ignoring his pride Vegeta decided that just this once he was going to allow this. Just this once. In the hope that it would be enough to scratch the itch.


	5. Gifts

The weeks following her incident with Yamcha, and the surprising fact that Vegeta had actually comforted her, he did his very best to stay away from her. Locked away in the GR for days on end, with very irregular meal times Bulma only got to see him a few times. Every Time their encounters were marked by silence. She had initially tried to ask him a few questions - all food related at that time - but all she had gotten were grunts or absolute silence. She had wanted to address the happenings of that one special night but every time she had worked up the courage to talk to him, he had already vanished into thin air.

Vegeta seemed to be determined to hold her to the promise she had made, that it was a secret and she'd never tell. Apparently not even him.

Bulma wasn't sure if he avoided her because he felt uncomfortable with what he had done for her and that he saw it as a mistake he didn't want to address, or if he simply didn't want to talk about Yamcha. She knew he hated that guy and she was still a little surprised that he had not blasted him.

She had thought back to that night many times and really wished she would have focused enough to hear the words that had been said between them - but she had been to shaken. Yamcha never attempted to contact her again and Vegeta, well he had never been a man of many words.

Once Bulma had heard him say that her ex- boyfriend was the kind of person he'd crush and throw in the wind - in retrospect that night seemed like a great time to do just that. But he had not done it. And now here she was wondering if he had just wanted him gone from his sight, given all the fights they had in the past during which Bulma had told the stubborn prince that crushing Yamcha would never be an acceptable option or if he truly had changed. Lost in her track of thought she wondered how long it had been since he had killed someone, was it Namek? She wasn't sure. There had never been any suspicious TV reports about people being randomly annihilated so she was rather sure that Vegeta had done his best to be peaceful since his stay at her house.

The young woman sighed deeply, looking at the humming GR as she made her way back to the lab, still lost in her thoughts. She was thankful that he had been there, truly thankful. As she had replayed that night over and over in her mind she always arrived at the same conclusion, she had no idea what might have taken place had he not intervened.

Never before had she experienced his presence as so calming and soothing. Hot? Yeah. But never fact that he had actually tolerated her prolonged physical contact was still so astonishing to her that Bulma had briefly considered that it had just been a dream. A beautiful illusion. She had thanked him that night, from the bottom of her heart, but something told her that Vegeta had no concept of what it meant to be truly thanked. He had appeared almost indifferent to it all. Chills traveled down her spine as she sat down at her desk reliving the memory of what it had felt like to lie so close to him. He had radiated heat unlike any other being Bulma had ever met, she had been so close to chancing it and even touching his hair, but she had refrained and just thanked him. In the whole ordeal he had maybe spoken 3 full sentences to her and that it was all it had taken for her to calm. Heat pooled between her legs while she recalled the feeling of his skin. He had slept in nothing but a fresh pair of boxers, clearly not giving a shit that there was a female in his bed. A female that, since that night, could not stop wondering what it would be like to have him hovering above her. Her legs around his firm waist, his sculpted chest against her soft curves..

Exhaling deeply she stared into coffee mug before her. _Back to reality Bulma._

She decided that she needed to do something to truly get her point across, how deeply she meant her thank you that night. It was a mystery to her why she had this burning feeling that she just had to do something to reach him and get Vegeta to understand what it was supposed to feel like if someone thanked you. The man was antisocial and reclusive but after having caught just a tiny glimpse of the side of him that just might care she realized that his demeanor was partly because he didn't know any better. He had never _experienced_ any better. A new termination took root in Bulma, she was going to change that.

Two weeks came and went without warning. Vegeta had continued his strenuous training regime and Bulma had been held up in her Lab working on her first attempt in reaching the alien Prince.  
It was pure luck that she caught him late that evening in the kitchen. Originally she had planned to seek him out the next morning and even chance it and interrupt his training in order to show him her finished product. But she couldn't sleep so she had ventured down to the kitchen for a glass of milk, where she saw him. Sitting at the kitchen table eating some sort of leftovers. It was apparent that he had just finished his training, he was drenched in sweat.

"Oh, i didn't know you would be here" she said genuinely surprised "I can't sleep and just wanted some milk" _Why was she explaining herself?!_

Bulma grabbed a glass from the cabinet and opened the fridge to get some milk, Vegeta was still sitting at the table but didn't respond. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. She groaned inwardly, this was going to be hard.

"I had planned on talking to you about something, so I guess this works out" she added, hoping to peak his interest.

Vegeta's eyes did indeed leave his dinner and eyes her suspiciously, he scowled as he was contemplating what it was the woman could possibly want from him, but he did not reply.

"Hey, Earth to Vegeta! I'm talking to you" she was becoming irritated. Why was he always being so complicated.

"You said you had something to discuss, I am just listening woman, that usually requires one to be quiet" his retort was laced with sarcasm and a dark smirk danced around the corners of his mouth. He was playing with her.

Bulma forced herself to exhale deeply, he was already teasing her, very effectively pressing her buttons - and the asshole knew it. This was going to be long and hard surprise. Forcing a smile to her face she ignored his remark and continued,

"Well, good. I have something for you. It's in the Lab, you should swing by when you have a minute"

"What is it?" he sounded uninterested. While eyeing her suspiciously to detect any ulterior motive she might have. He had not broken a training bot and was not awaiting any to be fixed. There was absolutely nothing in her lab that he could be interested in. _Her bent over her work-table ..._ No. Not even in the slightest.

Bulma's eyes started to shine brightly when she noticed his clearly faked disinterest. They had been around another enough for her to know when he was faking disinterest to bait her.

"I'd much rather show you. You can even see it now if you want to"

He didn't reply but studied her intently, unsure if he even wanted to know. His thoughts wandered back to the night a few weeks ago, the skin on his back starting to tingle when he remembered how she had felt on against him. When she had touched him. When she had moved against him. He had not been able to shake the feeling and it was aggravating him. The distance over the past weeks and his strict training program had only oh so little alleviated his frustration with himself and this stupid feeling he couldn't shake.

The woman shifted her weight, still looking at him, bringing him back from his train of thoughts. She was clearly becoming impatient, unsure of how to react in this situation he simply gave into his curiosity and nodded at her in agreement.

The made their way down into the Lab on the capsule corp grounds, it was late at night and everyone was gone. Bulma walked in front of him, turning on the lights as they went down the hallways. Finally taking a right and reaching her office, she opened the door, flipped the switch for light and turned around to look at him while smiling nervously.

"I really hope you like it" she said while grabbing a big black box from a shelve in her office.

Vegeta looked around, this place was usually a mess but tonight it was downright chaotic. Papers and prints everywhere, there were a few prototypes of some sort laying around, her trash was filling over and he even made out a phile of was appeared to be cloth in a corner of her Lab. _She is a total slob_ he thought to himself as he took in the chaos. Refocusing his attention to Bulma who was scuffling back through the chaos towards him holding the large box. She was nervous, he could tell but it was lost on him as to why. What could she possibly have down here in all this chaos that would be of any interest to him? Her work-bench to the right.

"It's not perfect yet - but I wanted to show you anyway. Also i needed to be sure it fits before I make more" she said more to herself than to him while pulling the object out of the box.

Vegeta felt had jaw go slack when he realized what she was holding. Regaining control of his facial faculties he resorted to his trademark scowl while being utterly unsure why she had done this. Deep down his stomach began to pull again as he eyed the Armour Bulma was holding up. It looked like an exact replica of his royal Armour. His eyes wandered over it, studying it - yes this was indeed real and very convincing to say the least. Even the royal crest of his line was printed on the chest. He had never shown that to her.

"Where did you get that?" the words had left his mouth before he could even finish the thought, his eyes never leaving the crest, his voice a growl.

Bulma's smile grew. He was surprised. Heck he was almost speechless. She had noticed the short moment of surprise and amazement that flashed across his face before he had resorted to the signature scowl of his. But she had seen it nonetheless and that was the moment she knew she had done good. Vegeta might never admit it but that little flash in his feature had given her all the reassurances and knowledge that she needed. And there was no way that he could ever deny it. She knew. She had seen it. She had managed to surprise him - pleasantly. She hoped.

"I saw you draw it a few times" she admitted, taking a step towards him, adding "you should try it on…"

Vegeta was frozen in place, he couldn't move a muscle. And he hated himself for it. He hated her for it. Once again she had completely blindsided him. He knew that she had seen his temporary loss of control over his facial expressions. She knew - and he knew that she knew.

His mind was racing and a turmoil of emotions were raging inside of him, he had no clue what to do next. Nothing like this had even happened to him. Nothing like this had ever been done _for_ him. Well not without having a catch, or a mile high price. He had simply assumed that he would never wear a piece of royal Armour ever again. A complete, intact piece that is. Sure, this was a replica, but it seemed to be a very realistic one. Chastising himself for even caring his just stood there and watched as the woman - who was clearly oblivious to his predicament - came closer. His instincts telling him to leave, because this could only be a trap.


	6. Put on a shirt

"..Vegeta?...are you ok? Do you not want to try it on?"

Her voice, was soft, worried and questioning. You might have broken him Bulma! She was standing right in front of him. Vegeta hadn't moved an inch. For a brief moment he had considered taking a step back to keep his distance from the approaching blue-haired girl, but his pride would not let him. Never had he, the Prince of all Saiyans, backed down in a battle. Not to mentioned that this was not even a battle. His instincts told him to move away and leave immediately, this was a dangerous situation -not to mention that he was out of his comfort zone.

Favors were not a thing where he was from. Favors got you killed. Whatever Bulma was offering him right now would come with a price; and he was utterly unsure if he wanted to put himself in this position. Everything always came with a price, this much he knew for sure. Cussing the woman in his mind, he eyed the Armour again. It looked so real and something in his chest restricted painfully. It felt hard to breath. The only thing he knew for sure in this situation, he did not want to be at her mercy, in her debt. Her motives still allured him but he was sure -

"No" his voice stopped Bulma in her tracks.

"...what?..." The needle had officially scratched off the freaking record.

Bulma could not help the stinging pain creeping up inside of her after the confusion had passed. Why would he not want to try on his own Armour? Did she do something wrong? You went to far girl. Looking down at the armour in her hands she racked her brain in confusion, it didn't make sense. Why wasn't he happy? She had seen the surprise flash in his eyes - pleasant surprise. Forcing herself to take a deep and calming breath, she lifted her gaze back to meet his. His features stony, unforgiving, cold. Black orbs burning a hole into her with deep rooted suspicion. Vegeta had not moved, his eyes had never left her and when Bulma took another closer look she realized that there was also something else...confusion and… mistrust.

"It's a gift Vegeta. A show of Thank you" she tried to explain her actions to him. He has never experienced any better.

Now that she had narrowed down the issue, she saw it clear as day, to him this was most likely unfamiliar. Maybe he even thought this was some sort of trap. He still hadn't moved. His facial expression was as unreadable as before and Bulma noticed her close proximity to him. In an effort to make him more comfortable she took a step back, maintaining eye contact and forcing a weak smile. His features did not relax but she could have sworn that he exhaled upon her leaving his personal space.

"It's okay if you don't. I meant it as a thank you - you know for Yamc.."

Bulma tried again but her voice trailed off. She did not want to talk about her low life ex boyfriend while she was trying to do something nice for Vegeta. Well, actually she really just wanted to see his bare torso being covered by her Armour. Wanted to see what his body looked like when he stretch to tug it over his head.

"It's a gift because you helped me out. I was in your debt. I wish to repay you". You suspicious monkey. She countered instead.

This night had not gone as she had hoped but she had gained the important insight that it was trust she had to work on - before attempting to do other things for him, no with him. She turned around slowly, trying to get her mind out of the gutter and shove the bubbling anger and impatience down. Sometimes having a fiery temper was truly a curse, Bulma placed the armour back into the box on her desk.

"It's late… I should get some sleep… if you change your mind it'll be here" she said while softly padding the box, trying to resolve the tension in this situation.

Gently reminding herself to remain calm, not be disappointed or angry with him that his reaction had shattered the illusion she had created. This hope, this fantasy she had had about how this was going to go - his reaction. She forced herself to exhale deeply as she closed the box and turned to head up back out of her lab and to the main compound of the house. The Saiyan still had not moved. Or said a word for that matter.

Bulma was unsure what else to say, Vegeta had not moved but was still looking at her intensely. It was like he had just frozen. Should she just go? Had he even heard her?

He had. He had heard her loud and clear. He had seen the disappointment flash in her eyes. He had noticed the deep calming breaths she had been taking in order to calm down. He had noticed how she tried hard to encourage him to fall for her trick. She called it a gift. What was a gift? A show of thanks - That usually involved necks snapping and Frieza being mad and sarcastic. He wondered, was it some special kind of deal? She couldn't possibly snap his neck. What kind of deal would she even want to make? She didn't owe him shit. He had reacted out of sleep deprivation and a haunting nightmare, a childhood mistake. His actions had served his own cause. His cause alone.

"You don't owe me. I will never owe you. Want kind of shit is this?" he heard his own voice. Curiosity had won. He was was in control here, she couldn't possibly hurt him. She couldn't force him, or trick him. And she couldn't possibly believe she had ever owed him.

She was still standing across from him, the box behind her on her office desk. Her eyes meeting his as she studied his face. Soft blue curls falling loosely around her face matching her blazing ocean colored eyes in mesmerizing intensity. She was gorgeous. Gods damn walk away!

"No God forbid the Prince of all assholes ever owed anybody shit! It's called me being nice to you, jerk" Bulma seethed. Forgotten were her attempts to be calm and understanding. He was such a self absorbed asshole.

"You have no reason" he shot back without thinking. This situation was getting dangerous, his mind catapulting him back to that night a few weeks ago.

"I don't need a reason you asshole!" Bulma's snapped back. Her voice shaking with anger and her eyes blazing with fury. Why were they fighting? "And put a shirt on" she added as an afterthought while she eyed his bare chest. Why did he have to be so hot!?

"Put a shirt on?" a dark, knowing smirk tugging at his lips. She was ogling him again. This vulgar woman had no shame. All attempts to drag his own mind out of the gutter forgotten.

Bulma's face fell. The tension in the room fell. She felt naked, exposed. He had seen right through her. Somewhere in her face he had seen how much she thought about that night, all the dirty thoughts she had been dreaming up since then. Involving sheets and skin and oh kami she was doing it again. He knew and it didn't affect him. He knew and he had not breathed a word. He knew and he had held onto it, waiting for the perfect moment to drop this bomb, like the predator that he was.

"You are such an ass!" she screamed, her temper boiling over. Throwing her hand in the air and stamping her foot for good measure she simply stormed past him. Leaving him behind in her Lab.

**For some reason this Chapter was difficult for me to write. So please let me know what you think - im still not sure if I like it or not.**


	7. Evidence

She had followed her mother, who was carrying the laundry basket, up the stairs. Completely engulfed in their conversation she hadn't even noticed that they had entered Vegeta's room. Her mother was putting away his freshly washed workout cloth, only when the phone rang downstairs and her mother hurried from the room and down the hallway, did she realize where she was.

Huffing in frustration Bulma looked around and considered leaving the room, but her eyes fell on the laundry basket and the remaining cloth inside of it. She decided to put them away before returning downstairs to rejoin her mother - with the empty basket. It had been nearly 2 month since her encounter with Vegeta in the Lab. He had taken off the next day without as much as a word to her. It was her father who later informed her that he had taken a ship to space - for training. The temperamental alien had returned yesterday. In bad shape. To Bulma's great displeasure he was even more devastatingly handsome as before. Having grown even stronger and leaner, if that was even possible. Over dinner he had avoided all contact not pertaining to food and made it clear that he wanted to be left alone.

As she was neatly tucking away his last shirt her eyes fell on something in the corner of his closet and her jaw went slack. Sitting in that very corner, hidden away from direct view, was the armour she had made month ago. The armour he had refused. It had been neatly tucked away, and Bulma couldn't help but snort in disbelief that she had never noticed that the large black box, still sitting in her office, must be empty. Sneaky bastard

A sense of pride spread in her chest at the realization that Vegeta had - to her face - outright refused the gift, changed the subject, aggravated and taunted her. But apparently had snuck back into her office at some point during the last few month and taken it after all. Shaking her head in unbelief that she had never even considered this, course of action. It had Vegeta written all over it. She turned towards the door, ready to leave and double check the black box in her office - just to make sure she deserved to be grinning like an idiot. As far as she remembered he did not have another when he had arrived on earth.

Not even halfway through the closet doors she froze. There was Vegeta leaning against the frame of his bedroom door. Watching her intently with suspicion in his dark eyes.

"Does it fit?" the words were out of her mouth before she had fully recovered from the shock that he had been watching her. Forgotten were the past few month of vicious verbal fights and the following long month of absolute silence when he had left for space. The scientist inside of her was hungry for answers. Wanting feedback to improve and test her creation. Did it fit? Had he tested it? Was it light enough?

"I told you not to enter my sleeping quarters without my permission" his voice was low and cold. He seemed to actually be angry.

"Kami Vegeta you don't sleep in the closet, do you? Now tell me,does it fit?"

Arms crossed over his chest he regarded her with a dark gaze. His scowl only deepened, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. He didn't answer her and the room fell silent. Bulma stood her ground. Determined that she was going to find out what exactly his damn deal was. Because Kami he was hot, all dark muscles and power and bronze skin. He was a god among men. And there was a heat pooling between her legs. It had been too long, and it wasn't her fault that her alien house-guest was basically sex on a stick, right?

"You stole it from my Lab, that's technically breaking and entering, so you are not one to complain about me being in here putting your cloth away and finding the evidence" she finally said, trying to bait him.

"I didn't break anything, your lab was unlocked, I just entered. Maybe you should be more concerned about security" a dark smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. He was mocking her.

"Still, I told you not to enter my Lab without my permission" she grinned and echoed his earlier words in a teasing tone watching his dark eyes beginning to glow with predatory excitement.

Vegeta pushed of the door frame, his gazed fixed on her as he slowly walked across the room. The scent of her arousal surrounding her like a cloud. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she briefly wondered if he could hear it. Leaning into her personal space with his eyes still fixed on her, he curled his lip and bared his bright white canines, heat radiating of his body in pulsating waves; making Bulma's throat dry and knees weak.

"I could kill you for your insolence" his smooth dark voice a whisper, but lacking harshness and seriousness.

He was taunting her.

Glad that the awkward situation that had aspired in her lab late at night a few month ago was now obviously officially in the past Bulma couldn't help but grin. Challenge accepted. She was just about to shoot her comeback at him and take their little verbal banter into overdrive when her mother called from down the hallway

"Oh, Hunni! That was your Aunt you won't believe what has happened.." her high pitched happy voice cutting through the thick tension between the two stubborn individuals.

Bulma blinked in surprise, startled by her mother's voice and before she could fully return her attention to Vegeta he was gone. Vanished.

Most likely out the Balcony doors and into the safety of the Gravity room she assumed.

He had bolted the second her heard the woman's mother come down the hallway. Her first words had reached his ears and he had taken it as his cue and disappeared from the woman's side through the sliding door of his balcony.

He had been saved by the bell. Or Bunni in this case.

Once again he had underestimated the effects the close proximity to the woman had on him. He had seen the playful flicker in her eyes and the smile that had been forming on her lips when she had understood his verbal challenge. And once again there had been that weird pull inside of him. He could not categorize it. Could not name it. Could not push it away. Could not train passed it. Could not extinguish it by avoiding the blue-haired wench. His trip into space had not helped him in erasing her from his mind and last night after his arrival at Capsule Corp he had actually found himself entertaining the thought that maybe the only way to extinguish her from his mind was to indulge. Once. Just once.

Just to see if she was truly as soft as her skin looked, as he remembered it. Just to see if the noises she would make would be, could be, as soft and enticing as her. Just to see what her cheeks looked like flushed from pleasure instead embarrassment. Once. Just once.

But at this very moment he was thankful for Bunni's oblivious nature and personality because he had been only a heartbeat away from doing something insane. Like reach out and touch the woman.


	8. Cold showers

Vegeta had only survived the past few days due to brutal training and cold showers. When he was not beating himself to a pulp, to the point of complete, utter, satisfying exhaustion he was trying to be either; eating, showering or sleeping. The latter was a state rather hard to attain - no matter how much he trained. He could not fall asleep, his thoughts a never ending spinning carousel that drove him insane. What made things even worse everything seemed to be covered in a hue of blue.

Even back on Namek he had found Bulma gorgeous. He had prolonged the fight against Zarbon to prove her that she was cheering for the wrong contender. How absolute idiotic.

Never before had he considered, or even given a shit about what a female thought. About him. About anything. That was the way it was supposed to be. As far as he was concerned that was something that did not happen to Saiyans. He couldn't remember much but what he could recall was that it never happened to Nappa or Raditz. Neither of the two of them ever mentioned it, or anything remotely related to it. As far as females were concerned you took what you liked, made sure it wouldn't get back to Frieza and then moved on.

 _Females are only good to satisfy a biological imperative_ \- the words Nappa had once told him, a long time ago, a lifetime ago, ringing in his ears. Vegeta had found that to be true. The opposite sex did generally not interest him, and the times he had actually given into curiosity and his biological needs it had been just that - satisfying a biological imperative. On his terms. With him they all were nothing but nameless, faceless shadows. Exactly how it was supposed to be.

The woman had bewitched him. That was the only possible explanation for what was happening. She was loud, annoying and she associated with lowly scum like that weakling. Who she had invited to her bedroom time and time again - _apparently for years_.

He was the Prince of all Saiyans, his chance of ever having a mate died with his planet. No other woman was worthy. There were no Saiyan females left that might have warranted such a strong need and preoccupation of his thoughts. But even that was something he was not sure of. He knew little to nothing about Saiyan bonding or mating. Earthling females were not something that should take any room in his mind or life - and yet Bulma had. Nappa had told him once that his father had picked a preferred mate for him, in a life long before Frieza. A Life long before all this. A Life that did not even feel like it was his. Sometimes he had wondered what she would have looked like. She, this preferred mate his father had picked. Who would he have been in this different life? But the older he got the less he thought about it - there was only this, his life, his life of blood and destruction. _He was death._  
Everyone across the Universe knew that. When he came he brought death and when he left, he left destruction. He was death.

Despite the distance he repeatedly tried to put between him and the Earth woman she never left his mind, she never left him. And as soon as he returned she wormed her way even deeper into his very being. She was ruining years of pain and practice that it had taken him to become a perfect warrior.

Cold showers, Hot showers, Ice Bath, Training, sleeping, eating, more training, leaving capsule corp., more training, fighting with her and again more training could not rid him of his ever growing infatuation with her. His body's growing infatuation. His body's cursed hormones.

I should have never intervened in the fight with her and that weakling. That's when it all got unbearable. He had woken up after a flashback and heard the fight she had with Yamcha, he had intervened, he had allowed her to sleep in his bed, to touch him. He had been off his game, sleep deprivation and then the nightmare had him feeling dizzy and he had lost control. Her touch had felt so good that not even his pride had been able to save him.  
It had opened the floodgates for a need that no amount of handy work could fix.

Pathetic and soft. That's exactly what he was turning into. A pathetic and soft weakling. Like the clown Karkarot.

His eyes were closed, his head in the back of his neck. His head spinning from the thoughts running through it while trying desperately to banish them. He hated when this happened, when the GR broke and he had to wait for it to be fixed. Wait in her presence to make sure she wouldn't take her _sweet ass_ time with the repairs and those situations allowed his mind to wander.

Unfortunately this was exactly what was happening now.  
He was standing in the GR, the woman on her knees,her head in the control panel, fixing some wiring. His mind raging wildly. Her scent lingered in the air, infiltrating his sensitive nose. It also happened to be that time for her. The roughly 3 days in her cycle where her scent just drove him crazy. Where his brain seemed to melt when she was near and the primal beast inside of him raged wild with need against its cage. His back was turned to her, to avoid the view of indecent shorts that exposed too much of her endless legs.

"How much longer woman?" he barked, annoyed with her. With himself.

"You really did a number on it this time Vegeta. I'm gonna have to order parts to repair it - maybe a day or two."

She was in the process of closing the control panel and collecting her tools which laid scattered around her.

"That's unacceptable. I demand you fix it TODAY!"

In long strides, clearly displaying her anger with the alien Prince Bulma made is across the Gravity Room, rounding on Vegeta to be face to face with him. She loved his height in situations like this - it allowed her to get directly in his face.

"Treat my equipment better and you won't have to wait for repair parts to be ordered and delivered" he voice was shaking with anger. This was not the first time they had this argument. To make her point she was poking him in the chest with every word she pressed through gritted teeth.

"Make equipment that is actually worth a shit, and I shall stop breaking it"

Stepping closer to him, Bulma unleashed a cascade of reasons why her technology was not shit and why he needed to learn how to control himself. But none of that truly reached his brain. His eyes were fixed on her deep blue oceans, hair of matching color flying wild and unchecked with all the head movements she made - likely trying to underline some ridiculous point - her cheeks were flustered. Yes, she was mad. A drop of sweat ran from her temple, down her face, along her neck before reaching her collarbone, right where he could hear her blood rushing and heart hammering. God yes she was mad. Mad and gorgeous.

In the midst of all her screaming, this realization of her fiery beauty and appeal, along with the flicker in her blue captivating oceans he could feel his crotch twitch. Never before had the anger of someone else aroused him. _This much._


	9. Hot showers

Bulma stomped up the stairs. Grinding her teeths and huffing angrily while she stormed down the hallways to _his_ room. Vegeta had literally left her in the GR. Fazing out on her mid-sentence. Mid-fucking-sentence. Nobody did that to Bulma Briefs while she was giving someone a piece of her mind. And boy had she been in the middle of giving Vegeta a piece of her mind.

The Price of assholes had broken the GR and then had the nerves to get mad at her because she had to order parts. Substantially leading to him having to wait a few days before he could use it again. _Not my fault he can't control his strength._

Once at his door Bulma did not even bother knocking, she just ripped his door open looking around the empty room. Absolutely fuming at this point she was just about to turn around when she heard the shower running. The Shower? Vegeta never took a shower mid-day. He also never ended his training early. GR broken or intact.

The genius part of her brain having completely check out in the midst of her rage and confusion, she crossed the distance to the bathroom door in four strides and opened the door. With more force and violence than necessary.

"Don't you ever leave in the middle of m-" she immediately screeched upon gaining entry into the bathroom, but her words died on her lips when she saw a rather naked Vegeta in the shower "..Oh"

His back was turned to her in an odd angle, apparently he had managed to turn just in time to keep his rather private regions, well private, upon her angry entrance into the room.

"Wh-..What are you doing?!" she heard her own voice after a moment of stunned silence. She sounded rather dumb, even to her own ears. _Yeah Bulma,_ _what_ _is he doing?_

 

Her eyes raked over his naked back. His muscles were tense, and while she had seen his naked back on numerous occasions, the man rarely wore a shirt after all, this was different. Bulma's gaze dipped lower, his rear end was delicious, firm and sculpted and Kami those spandex short did not do it justice. Once again Bulma marveled at how well proportioned he was, while short in stature his muscles fit his frame perfectly, creating an almost harmonic image that oozed strength and raw power. Her cheeks blushed a deep crimson when she wondered what his rear would feel like when running her hands across it. Was his tail scare sensitive? Saiyan tails were notoriously sensitive, so would that scare count as an erogenous zone?

"Woman, get the hell out before I decide to blast you!".

His voice was deep, angry. Hateful? What did he have to be angry about, it was him who had walked away from her! Mid-sentence! Nobody walked away from Bumla Briefs, especially not when using her hospitality to the fullest extent like he was.

"I'll wait outside, hurry up jackass, you ain't getting out of this" she fumed, regaining control of her mental faculties and shutting the door with one last look at his backside. _What, a girl can look!?_

 

When Vegeta got out of the shower he silently thanked every deity he knew for having the foresight to bring a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom with him. Given that his bathroom and bedroom were connected he usually did not bother, but with Bulma hovering right outside the door he found himself relieved for at least having pants when addressing her.

Things were getting messy and he did not like it. After his body clearly betrayed him in the middle of the gravity room he had decided to leave till necessary replacement parts were ordered and installed. A few days in isolation would do him good. Cool his blood and allow him to refocus. He had spend the majority of his life alone. Either crammed into his space pod or raining down destruction like the holy ghost. Bulma was loud, and chatty, and insisted on too much physical contact altogether. A squeeze of his shoulder here, a brush of their fingers there, he couldn't remember a time in his life when he had this much physical contact with a single being outside of combat.

While he still entertained the idea of screwing her, thoroughly, to get her out of his system he also had the unsettling feeling that the Woman wasn't the 'once-and-done' type. And snapping her neck was not an option either. Even though that usually took care of possible awkwardness and unwanted questions as well as attention after the act. Unfortunately for him the woman strutted around the house dressed like a whore while smelling like heaven, his last satisfying encounter being years in the past, leading to all out war between his brain and his rebellious crotch.

He could fuck her, leave, train and achieve Super Saiyan, return to crush the Androids followed by Kakarott and then set out to rule the Universe like he had always been supposed to. His race might be dead, but he was not, billions of beings could still bow at his feet.

His mind made up, Vegeta finished with the towel in his hair, getting rid of the excess moisture from his shower and opened the bathroom door.

He had seen Bulma ogling him on multiple occasions, smelled her arousal and learned the clear signs of the facial expressions she made when her mind was in the gutter. Vulgar Woman.

Arms crossed over his bare chest, a dark smirk tugging on his lips he found Bulma sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Tell me Woman,what has you so possessed that you now stalk me in the bathroom? While I shower?"

Bulma's eyes widened at his husky tone and dark smirk, her cheeks flushing crimson and her previous anger dissolving into thin air.  
_Oh yeah, she was done for._

 

**I know i am a terrible person, leaving you hanging like that twice. Next Chapters. I promise.**


	10. Run for your life

**This chapter is basically just pure smut. If you are easily offended, not into this kind of thing or simply not old enough don't read it. You have been warned.  
Also this is my very first lemon, so let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy it :)**

Bulma could only swallowed loudly. The mental list of reasons that she had prepared in the past few minutes focusing on why he had screwed up and why he was at fault all but forgotten.

In rebellious fashion the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a shudder ran down her spine. Somewhere deep inside her brain she heard the faint echo of a small voice telling her that he was toying with her. That he had been toying with her all along. Her fascination and attraction to him an obvious game he had drawn out and played at his own leisure and to his own amusement. He was a predator and now he was going for the kill.

All her genius leaving her powerless to stop it. Her legs felt unusually shaky and she was not sure that they would even carry her should her brain be able to engage the "flight" modus in her fight-or-flight response that was currently taking a leave of absence. Instead her body seemed to opt for frozen, weirdly aroused and completely aware that she had just lost.

Over the past few month her fantasies and dreams , regarding the dark haired saiyan leaning against the doorframe , had simmered and boiled to the point of no return.

Almost distantly she recognized the sound of her own voice, …"I- ...I am not stalking you. You are just a rude jerk who ran away" it lacked fire and conviction.

Pushing himself of the doorframe Vegeta made a sound between a laugh and a chuckle. Moving with the grace of a true hunter he came to stop in front of her, still sitting on the edge of his bed, never once breaking eye contact. Light grey sweatpants hanging loosely and dangerously low on his hips, he leaned into her personal space. Blue drowning in black she recognized the smell of his soap. It had been a long truly pathetic struggle when he had first come to earth to find a soap that did not upset his sensitive nose. And now the smell of the product chosen all those long long month ago waved into her nostrils, setting her blood on fire. His chest was still bare and _kami_ was he warm, the heat seem to almost radiate of him.

"I told you before, not to enter my quarters. But you continually ignore me. I might just have to kill you now woman" his voice like velvet - deep, dark, smooth, forbidden velvet - brought her back to reality. Taunting her.

His eyes still bore into her, gauging her reaction, his dark smirk revealing a sharp canine. He was a predator. Ready to pounce.

"It's my house Vegeta, I can go wherever I damn well please!"

Her fire returned with vengeance. _That's right!_ That's why she was here. Because he had been a jerk! A jerk who had once again treated her with less respect than she deserved. Eyes blazing she faintly noticed heat pooling between her legs as he leaned closer, his mouth by her ear, his nose almost in her hair.

"You should run.." he took a deep breath and added, voice just above a whisper "..for your life"

His face came back to be level with hers, dark eyes watching her behind a mask void of any emotions, unreadable. For an outsider Vegeta would have appeared to be serious. Deadly serious. But Bulma knew better. Knew that he had smelled her arousal. Knew that she was no longer the only one at the point of no return, that she likely had never been there alone. Knew that right now he was giving her a chance out. A chance to say no and leave, no harm done.

But Bulma Briefs was not one for walking away from a challenge.

"I don't run, and you don't scare me Vegeta"

Before the words had a chance to fully leave her lips she reached out boldly, place her hand on his neck and kissed him.

The first time Yamacha had kissed her, it had been careful. Testing, timid, gentle.

Vegeta was none of those things.

He washed over her like the force of nature he was. Taking control straight out of her hands and leaving no doubt that _he_ was kissing her. His lips were soft, so soft and full that it caught her by surprise. Before she could regain her bearings his teeth had captured her bottom lip and then his tongue was in her mouth. Immediately establishing dominance while exploring and exploiting like he was a drowning man coming up for air for the first time.

His hands had found their way into her hair and while one remained, cradling her head, keeping her right where he wanted her, his other explored her body at his own leisure. It found her knee and parted her legs, his body stretching out over her, pinning her hips down with his. They were on the middle of his bed now. _When had they moved!?_

Gasping and moaning between heated kisses Bulma found her hands running up and down his back, tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, grasping the sheets beneath her to remind herself that this was _real._ His skin was hot, and soft. But he was still hard, it was like someone had spanned velvet over marble, and the more the heat pooled between her legs the more she seemed to drown in the fuzzy world of pleasure.

The fabric of her shirt was ripped before his hands found her breast, making short work of her bra, before running his thumb over her nipples. His hips grinding into hers seemingly on their own accord while his mouth had found the soft spot right behind her ear. Everything was hot and pleasurable and she was dangling somewhere between fer frontal cortex fighting for control and her entire body just _being, just feeling._ The shreds of her top along with her bra long forgotten at this point.

Normally that was hard, with Yamacha she had to make an effort to keep work (and other things) from entering her mind during their private moments but at this very moment, with this man, there was just gasping and moaning and pleasure.

Her hands found the waistband of his sweatpants, cupping him through them, before encouraged by his low groan, slipping her fingers beneath it. As her fingers found him, his head found the crock of her neck. Vegetas breaths came sharp, shallow and labored as she began stroking his already erect member. Now he was the one fighting for control. _Bulma Briefs still got it._

He only allowed her a few good strokes before distancing himself to take of his pants, taking hers - panties included - at the same opportunity. Given her sudden nakedness in front of her alien house-guest Bulma shyly averted her gaze. Yes she was beautiful, her body was flawless, and she was a damn confident woman but Vegeta was a God among men. And right now this God was towering over her. Between her bent legs. Naked. All muscles and bronze skin and power. _Not to mention a rather impressive, rather hard, erection._ As his body stretched over hers again, his hand found her chin, turning her head, forcing her to look at him. Black eyes boring into her, telling her, _right here. Look at_ _me._

His lips found hers again, through her lashes she saw him now watching her intently through hooded eyes. His erection pressed into her thigh and lower belly while his hand traveled over her breast and hips to her center. She gasped, felt the dark smirk in the kiss, saw the mischievous glint in his eyes as the pad of his thumb found her most sensitive spot.

Hips rocking slowly against her, thumb still drawing lazy circles, middle finger delving deeper into her wet fold, kiss never stopping, rhythm never faltering - this man was _incredibly good_ at multitasking. Her hips started moving and bucking on their own accord as his finger finally sank into her.

Like a true predator, he was a quick learner, sizing up his prey. And before she knew it his hand worked in a style that every move made her _gasp, moan, mewl, quiver_.  
Wrapping her legs around his firm waist, burying her hands deeper in his wild dark hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. She wanted this, the need for _more_ almost unbearable at this point. Her breathing was labored, cheeks flushed and her body begging for release.

Above her Vegeta had long caught onto her need for more, making a show of withdrawing his fingers and licking the coat of her arousal of his digits. Tongue curling, lips encircling, while maintaining eye contact with the impossibly stunning minx below him. Her eyes widening when he surprised her yet again.

He usually hated being underestimated. Enemies often brushing him aside because of his size. But in situations like this one, he loved the element of surprise. Of being underestimated. It had left her wide open, and he had taken full advantage of it. Well not _full_ , but he was about to.

Shifting his weight to his bend arm beside her head, he positioned himself at her entrance, eyes wandering leisurely up her naked form before meeting her gaze again, her pearly white teeth biting her lower lip in anticipation. Pressing forward he sank into her. She was warm and wet and awe-inspiring tight. A moan died at the back of her throat, her eyelids fluttered and he could not suppress the deep, low groan that escaped him as he buried himself to the hilt within her.

Her lips found his, sucking on his bottom lip while rolling her hips to meet his own, she moaned with every deep long stroke. _All bets were off._

His lips were on hers, on her neck, behind her ear, his arm went around her hip allowing him to dive deeper, the shudder of a phantom tail wanting to curl around her thigh ran down his spine. Never before had he been _this_ close to anyone during this act. Then again never before had anybody been so _hot and willing._

Bulmas moans grew louder in intensity with the rhythm of his hips as he picked up the pace. Hand finding the back of her neck, lips finding hers and a few powerful strokes of his hips later he could feel her walls tightening around him. He fought for breath when she came apart underneath him, back arching, his name leaving her lips in a sound of pure pleasure. She pulled him with her over the edge.

Groaning, shuddering, jerking in his release he came almost violently inside her. Continuing to rock his hips in an almost desperate attempt to prolong his, their, pleasure for as long as possible.

The woman legs still around his waist he went limp above her, shifting slightly as to not crush her, letting his post orgasm daze wash over him.

This had not just been gratifying but absolutely exhilarating and suddenly he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that _once might not be enough._


	11. Morning musings

**This was hard for me to write. I currently have a hard time writing asshole Veggie - probably because of all the Vegebul heaven moments that super is providing us with, which have me on the edge of cardiac arrest a few times during some episodes…. Nonetheless i wanted to get this out before I go back to University next week which will automatically lead to less time i can spend writing.**

 

**Also, again, this is smut. You have been warned.  
**

His face was pressed so deep into his pillow that any human likely would have suffocated, but he felt wonderfully boneless. The kind of boneless satisfaction that one usually feels after a successful purge in Oozaru form. Mind numbing peace and tiered. The kind of short temporary peace not even Frieza could take away.

But there had been no purge, there was no more Frieza and he did not even possess a tail anymore.

Next to him the fragile earthling female slept peacefully. Like he wasn't a murder. Like he wasn't a monster. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to fall into bed with him. He who had openly proclaimed and vowed to kill Kakarot, her friend, and destroy this mudball, her homeworld.

Two days had passed. Two days in which they did not leave his room, two days during which he pursued his desire for her with single minded determination. _Consequences be damned._ The woman had ordered the necessary spare parts for his ship and gravity room via her smartphone, much like takeout food. In the past two days he had feasted and fucked like the King he had been supposed to be. With the spare parts on the way there wasn't much else to do anyway, and once he had tasted the blue haired minx it had been a lot more appealing to spend the few days wait between the sheets rather than alone in the wilderness.

She would repair his ship, while he showered and recovered from their impromtu fuck fest and then he'd leave. Vegeta had long decided that it would be best to not tell the woman about his plans of leaving. She would bitch and complain and he'd have to suffer a headache before even breaching the mudballs atmosphere. He had seen the glimmer of attachment or maybe even affection in her eyes during their last bout and he had realized that his statement of "this means nothing", which he had proclaimed to her shortly after their first round, had not registered in her stupid human female brain.

* * *

 

_Running his hand through her silken blue tresses and grabbing her by the hip with the other he pulled her closer. Lips finding her neck and placing open mouth kisses up to her jaw and back down, in between playfully nipping and licking the delicate skin._

" _Again!?" she had asked, starting to realize that the libido of a Saiyan male was a wild and raging thing that was not easily sated._

_He had grunted something incoherent into her neck, further explanation on his part was not necessary since her legs had opened and wrapped around him seemingly on their own accord._

_The room smelled of her. And him. And sex. So much sex and sweat. Never had he pursued a single female so many times. Usually the opposite sex could hold his attention just long enough to indulge in the act once. Maybe twice if he was in an exceptionally good mood. He did not care for their names, nor their comfort or pleasure._

But this little blue haired female was different, the moans he could elicit from her only spurred him on further and he had the sinking realization that he likely had become addicted to the feeling of her walls squeezing down around him, pulling him with her, coaxing his own orgasm out of him.

_So when he hooked her legs by the knee in the crock of his elbow and thrust into her, he pursued that exact goal with single minded pleasure. Thrusting into her at a steady pace, basking in the ever rising scent of her arousal, kissing and nipping down her neck and towards her well formed mounds. The woman's hands grabbed at his hair with painful pleasure, reminding him that he was indeed alive. Very alive. Crying his name in a throaty voice as he grabbed her by the hip to adjust his angle, diving deeper, hitting a sensitive spot deep within her that had her thrashing beneath him._

She came with a silent cry, arching her back off the mattress, eager to meet him, allowing him to go even deeper. Entwining the fingers of her hand with his that was by the side of her head, panting and gasping for air as he fucked her right through her orgasm trying to prolong this prodigious feeling of her womanhood clinging to his member almost painfully tight.

_And then his eyes had found her blue oceans. And he had seen the adoration and affection in her eyes. It shone brightly in her blue orbs as she held his gaze, eyes half lided with lust and her post orgasm daze. He could see himself reflected in them, he the monster, the destroyer of worlds, laboring and panting above her. And then she had whispered his name, her fingers brushing the scar where his tail used to be and he had come with so much force that he could do little but rest his forehead against hers while his body shuddered in ecstasy._

* * *

 

Now he was laying here in the dark, with his face buried in his pillow. Contemplating his previous actions and his next move. The silly female had likely interpreted his previous actions as those of affection rather than those of just cumming gloriously hard.

One the upside it was _the day._ Today the woman would install and repair the broken parts on Capsule 3 and he would be able to leave this mudball. As well as her and her silly attachments. Lifting his head from his pillow he peered at the clock on his nightstand.

6.30 am.

Definitely time to get up and going. Gods knew the woman would take her time and the repairs would likely take a considerable amount of time. He stretched his legs, fully leaving sleep behing while turning his head and gazing at the form of the sleeping woman next to him, his crotch twitch rebelliously and he had to groan in annoyance at himself.

Given that the damage was already done, he had two options; take the woman one more time and resign himself to the fact that it would likely result in a few morning tents filled with the memories of the acts they had done in his bed in the past two days. Or he could take a cold shower and resign himself to the fact that there would likely be a few morning tents filled with the memories of the acts they had done.

Sighing deeply, he decided that one more time could not hurt anything. Pushing aside the feelings that arose when he subconcious mocked him, yes his plans to have his fill of her and return his focus to his training had backfired tremendously, but he was about to live the rough life that came with being in deep space, so why deny himself?

Rolling over, laying on his side, he pulled Bulma closer to his chest. His hands surveying her body, gently squeezing her breast and running his thumb of her nipples. She stirred when his hand wandered lower, traveling over her curves and caressing the skin over her hipbone. A soft moan escaping her lips, hips instinctively tilting and pressing into his erection, his hand found her center lightly brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves through her folds. When her soft moans had turned into whimpers of desperation, her hips thrusting against his hand, he got to his knees and pulled her hips up to his pelvis with a strong arm. Head pillowed by her arms, back arched so her small waist flared out to her hips which met his own perfectly, he positioned himself behind her.

His mind went paradisically blank when he pushed himself inside of her, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding when his pelvis touched her creamy ass. Grabbing onto her hips with both hands to keep her right where he wanted her, he drew back and thrust back in. Pace unrelentingly and hard, his head fell back, hissing and groaning through clenched teeth in pleasure. Below him Bulma was a mumbling and moaning mess, her face in his pillow, pushing her hips back to meet his every thrust eagerly. When his release finally claimed him he had to hold the woman's hips, her legs still shaking from her own release just moments ago, past the point of caring who might hear them he groaned loudly before catching his breath and realsing her hips, which fell flat to the bed.

Taking a deep breath and one last look at the woman below him he got out of bed and made his way to the adjacent bathroom.

Before reaching the washroom he called over his shoulder "Get up woman! The gravity room repairs need to get done!"

"...W- What?.."

"Have I fucked you so good you can't from a coherent thought?! I said get up and repair my Gravity Room woman!"

And with that the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Leaving a stunt and sweaty Bulma in his bed.


	12. Avoidance

Bulma sat on the bed dumbfound. Had Vegeta just dismissed her like she was a common whore?! _How dare he_ ! They had spent the past two days between his sheets and Bulma had to begrudgingly admit that she had enjoyed it. _Immensely._   


His abrasive attitude had gone from razor edge to fine sandpaper, _fine_ but sandpaper nonetheless. There had been bouts of playfulness and flirtatious humor.   


Yes, she had enjoyed herself. Enjoyed the feel of his body. Enjoyed the rare glimpse behind his stoic mask of arrogance and indifference. And judging by the sounds Vegeta had tried very hard not to make , but made nonetheless, she knew that he had enjoyed himself just as much.  


Yes, he had made it abundantly clear that this was screwing and nothing more. But he had kissed, caressed and worshiped her body in a way that now, after it was apparently all said and done, gave him absolutely no right to act all high and might. He had acted and spoken to her as if he was dismissing a well paid slut after a night of money well earned.. or well spend.  


Absolutely furious the blue haired woman threw the covers back and crossed the short distance to the bathroom in a few strides. She was a classy woman not a common whore and heaven help any fool who accused her, _Bulma fucking Briefs_ , of being the latter.   


The bathroom door swung open, loudly connecting with the wall behind it, but the raging female paid it no mind. Objects could be replaced. The hit her pride, self worth and her vanity had just taken could not.  


The source of her anger was in the shower. Naked and covered in soapy suds. They made eye contact through the shower glass - which hadn't even had time to become foggy yet.

Perfectly manicured fingers curled around the handle of the shower door before ripping it open with wild and reckless furry.  


"How _dare_ you dismiss me like a whore Vegeta" the petite female roared at the Saiyan Prince with the fierceness of a Tiger on the hunt.   


"Yes, we fucked - ... and don't you dare call me vulgar now - we fucked and you _enjoyed_ it" she was so mad her chest was heaving now "So don't go around acting like you are better than me! I'm Bulma Briefs, the most gorgeous and brilliant woman alive, I am beneath nobody!"   


She had really worked herself into a frenzy. Holding onto the shower door for dear life she struggled to calm her breathing. Her heart was hammering away in her chest. Throughout her anger induced tantrum she had managed to keep her gaze locked with that of her very naked, very attractive, houseguest. His gaze was cold, shut off, and most importantly unimpressed.

Shaking his head and continuing to rinse himself off Vegeta regarded her coolly for a moment longer, freezing any future words in her throat, before shutting of the water and stepping past her. He dried himself off in a mechanic military fashion, his muscles rippling underneath his sun-kissed skin.  


"The GR is not in here woman. It's outside. You may clean yourself before returning to your duties of fixing it" he replied calmly. Discarding his towel into the hamper. "If the goal of this little excursion of yours was to get _fucked_ again; I'm not interested."   


The word _fucked_ was spat like poison and only underlined by the bathroom door shutting behind him. Leaving her alone, and naked, in the shower.   


* * *

   
  


Vegeta dressed in a hurry and left his room in pursuit of breakfast downstairs. While standing in the cold spray of the shower his wits had return to him and he had realized the grave mistake he had committed.  


No bedding the female was not a mistake. _Technically._ The grave mistake was screwing her for two consecutive days during the peak of her cycle. He had literally turned tail when he had smelled her fertility and anger in the GR, going for a cold shower to _not_ do what he had just done. Carelessly bedding a female, a non-saiyan female at that, spilling himself inside her repeatedly in a dazed lust induced by the siren song of female pheromones.   


He had succumbed to the beast inside of him. Biology had beat him. _Him_ . The Prince of all Saiyans.   


Vegeta scoffed, he was truly pathetic. Like a teenager in his first heat. Never before in his life had Vegeta wanted to punch himself in his own dick.  


He needed to get of this backwater planet. _Now._   


The mudball was making him weak. Was making him enjoy soft beds, regular meals and worst of all; interactions with _her._ And now it had escalated. He had soiled what little had remained of his once proud race by succumbing to one of his most instinctual needs. Like a _common_ men. Assuredly his father was currently rolling in his grave, ready to greet him with one heck of a beating whenever Vegeta would arrive at the gates of Hell the next time.   


Absorbed in his own thoughts the alien Prince ignored Bunny, who was happily flipping pancakes and chattering about meaningless things like he cared, or actually listened. He scarfed down his breakfast without really tasting it. Another unfortunate habit he had developed during his stay on this planet. Enjoying the taste of food. Basking in its rich flavor and eating with gusto. Maybe even developing an appreciation for Bunny's culinary talents. _Maybe._   


The sound of angry stomping, most doubtlessly, the Woman interrupted Vegeta's train of thought, bringing him back to reality. In a hurry, almost uncharacteristic of him, he ordered Bunny to have large portions of food prepared for a training Trip to the wilderness he was preparing for. _Leaving this godforsaken place_ was more accurate but he was sure the ditz would not be able to identify this as confidential information and inadvertently tell the Woman. Which would most likely lead to drama, the kind she liked to watch on her silly Television box.   


* * *

 

Freshly showered, but still as mad, Bulma appeared in the kitchen just in time to hear the patio door, leading towards the backyard, shut. Confirming her suspicion that Vegeta's plan of action for the future was simple. _Avoidance._   


To say that she was not slightly hurt by his abrasive behavior this morning would have been a lie. A small part of her had hoped that the good mood and light flirtatious moments they had shared in the past 48 hours would be able to transcend to some of their regular routine. While most of her friends still felt wary about her Saiyan house-guest the blue haired female had warmed up to him, and after the past events she was even sure that there was something, _someone_ , inside Vegeta that was worth knowing, fostering, and caring for. Behind the mask of indifference was a smart man with a sharp tongue that was surprisingly observant. Picking up on small details one might even miss about oneself.   


Much like the alien who had just left she took her breakfast without really tasting it, being to absorbed in her own world. Analyzing the events and his words from this morning, debating on whether she should risk incurring his wrath further by attempting to teach him a lesson and _not_ fix the gravity room for another day or two.   


Originally she had promised him to make the repairs as soon as the needed parts arrived, but after this morning's altercation she did not want to make him feel like he was in control. No man could treat her like that. Then again no man had every _screwed_ her like that either. She wanted to fume and scream thinking about his last words, and moan and sob thinking about the way he hard caressed her body. Never in her life had she gotten a more confusing and mixed message.   


She was a strong and independent Woman. Always in charge of every aspect of her life. If someone had asked her a few days ago if she would ever have it any other way she would have laughed in their face and called them insane. She was Bulma Briefs and the World was hers.   
  
_And then_ she had kissed this extraterrestrial being - after receiving the very clear advice to run - that snagged control right out of her hands and made her submit and yield to the wild and dangerous storm that was Vegeta.   


Bulma swallowed thickly, realizing her train of thought, she _liked_ Vegeta.   


Not just his extraordinary body, or aristocratic face but his guarded ways that only hinted towards an ocean of adventure, excitement and misery buried deep within him. An ocean likely so deep that she might drown should she ever be able to lay eyes upon it. Something constricted inside her chest and Bulma had to set her mug of coffee down; What if she never discovered it? What if it forever remained this unseen secret, only existing in her scientific mind of hypothetical prospects?  


Mind racing she left the Kitchen and headed for her Lab, she was going to fix to GR. She was a smart and beautiful woman, a woman in control. And she had finally found a challenge in her life that she had not even been fully aware that she had been missing. She could solve every problems using math, science, and logic. Build anything her mind could possibly dream up. Decipher any code and any Technology if she put her mental faculties to it, and people of this World bowed at her feet for it.  


But not Vegeta. There was something so terribly mysterious and amazingly wicked about him that kept her guessing, drawing her in. _He was everything she could never control._   


And Bulma Briefs loved a good challenge.


	13. Late night musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short Chapter, focusing on some introspect on Bulmas part. I'm currently on Spring Break from University, I had really hoped to write a lot but of course I got sick. So this is all I could manage. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

  
“Focus _on your breathing, relax your muscles and let your thoughts flow freely…”_ a soothing female voice instructed, accompanied by the soft sounds of relaxing and tranquil music in the background. Bulma tried to do just that but after a view tense minutes of simply trying too hard she let out a frustrated huff, throwing the nearest pillow at her stereo system.

 

She was not good at relaxing, not good at letting her thoughts flow freely, whatever that actually was. How could anyone with a brilliant mind like hers just _not_ think deliberately. Clearly impossible.  The blue haired female had purchased the CD on impulse on her way home from her doctor's appointment, in the hope of helping her sooth her raging anxiety and lump in her throat.   
  
She was pregnant. Pregnant with Vegeta's child. And he was currently gallivanting through space. _Fanfucking tastic._

Only a few weeks back they had spend some rather intimate moments between his sheets, resulting in him avoiding her almost the entire day after. Being the good hearted person that she was, she had even fixed the Gravity Room - despite his assholy ways - and said asshole had been caught later that days trying to slip out and take off without her noticing her. They had fought. In itself that was a daily occurrence but this had been their worst fight yet.   
  
She had been prepared for the silent treatment and even the cold shoulder, Vegeta was not a man who dealt well with change. Bulma had expected him to be distant and rude, for him to lock himself up in the GR for a few days and do whatever he needed to do to come to terms with the recent events. That had always been his usual MO.

After she had - attempted - to gift him a new set of Armour, he had disappeared for a few month.  
After she had slept in his bed for the first time, following the Yamacha debacle, he had avoided her.   
After the GR explosion, many months back, when he had reluctantly accepted her help when it came to changing dressings and applying ointments, he had also left to brood.

Whenever Vegeta was confronted with new social interactions he was not familiar with he required time to think; reorient and create a framework for what just happened.  She had expected that. That's why she had ignored his rude comments that certain morning and had done as he wished, to help him ease through his - likely - biggest transition. Being the confident Woman that she was Bulma was sure that he did not regret it. She was still hell-bent of giving him a piece of her mind - nobody talked to her like that -  at a later point in time, when normalcy had returned to their routine.  She had even be determined to get to know him better, to expand the short glimpse she had gotten behind his hardened mask of indifference.   
  
But what she had never expected was for him to downright run. Leave for the only place he knew better than anybody else on this planet. Space.   
  
Their fight had been downright hellish. Fueled by a sense of betrayal that blossomed inside her chest the second her brain had made the connection of what he was about to do.  And he had laughed in her face, told her that it meant nothing, that _she_ meant nothing and he was free to do as he wished.

They had been outside, in front of the Capsule, and in her fury of hurt and betrayal she had grabbed the nearest object - one of her mother's flower pots - and hurled it at him with a strength that was both alarming and surprising.  He dodged the flying contraption, _of course,_ and called her something that sounded suspiciously like “Bitch” under his breath before turning to board the Capsule.   


Not one to to give up easily, and fueled by her anger, Bulma had insisted on the last word, calling him a coward. Telling him to never return.

The last part she now regretted painfully.

She was pregnant. The androids were looming in the not so far off future, and he might truly never return. Sure, he had given his word to help fight them, but in the end it was not his fight. This was not his planet, not his home, according to him nothing here had any meaning to him. Any value. _Not even her._

The last thought made her bite her lip in an effort the drown out the pain arising in her chest like an unwelcomed guest. She had to tell him.   
  
She had to tell her parents. And everyone else.   
  
While she knew her mother would be elated at the prospect of having a grandchild to spoil and coo over she unfortunately was not sure how Vegeta would react. Maybe she should not tell him; if he truly never came back, he would never know, she could avoid the possible heartbreak he might cause by rejecting their Child. But if he came back, discovering that she had kept something so monumental a secret from him, he would likely be downright wrathful.   
  
Sadly she had little to no clue how Saiyans in general felt about offspring, while Goku had been sent of as an Infant, from what she had gathered Vegeta had , at least in part, grown up with a father figure. Royal Saiyan standards and Ideals regarding offspring were a mystery to her, no source in the Universe to ever reference, besides the Prince himself. That is, if he even knew.

So here she laid, on her luxuriously soft King size bed, in the dark, trying to listen to relaxing tunes and come to grips with the happenings in her life.  Bulma knew she had to make a decision regarding Vegeta, putting it of would only feed the ever growing pit of uncertainty and dread in her stomach, surely mixing guilt into it should she put if off for months.   
  
As the hours passed and the stars in the sky grew more numerous and brighter she decided she would be brave. She would pay no mind to the “what if’s” and “could be’s” her mind had conjured up in these past few hours. She would tell him.

She would tell him and then deal with his reaction, get the facts. Because her mind could make sense of those; _facts._

  
Taking a deep breath she got off her bed and shuffled down to her Lab. Not caring about the late hour, surely earth time was not something that translated into concepts that held value in space.  If anything truly held value in the sucking silent void of black nothingness.   
  
Turning on only the small lamp on her desk she opened the program needed to hail the ship, took one deep breath and before she could overthink it, clicked the button to request transmission.


	14. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally happening, Bulma is going to tell Vegeta :) With all the major Vegebul / Bra fluff going on lately I was breaking my own heart writing asshole Veggie in this chapter. But to counter-balance all that i wrote two sweet one-shots you can check out if you feel like you need some more positive Vegeta/Bulma moments. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. please feel free to review! xo

 

The small green light on the ship's main console blinked in a fashion that was almost hypnotic, all the while indicating an incoming call and Vegeta's stomach suddenly knotted in a strange sense of foreboding.

Weeks had past without the blue haired witch trying to contact him, after some time had passed he had assured himself that nothing had happened. He just had a sick and twisted brush with faith but he got away uncharged. No price attached to his foolish carnal actions back on earth.

He would be able to continue on the path destiny had chosen for him. He would achieve the status of the Legendary, return to earth to show his superiority in strength and breeding by squashing the tin cans and finally, _by the gods_ , finally kill that 3rd class clown. Then he would leave to pick up where Frieza had left off. He would rule the Universe, beings from all solar-systems would have to recognize the last Prince of the Saiyans for all he represented. Strength, Tactic, Superiority.  
A true warrior from the only true race of warriors that ever existed in this dark pathetic hole of the Universe.

But now he was being hailed and Vegeta felt the ground being pulled out from underneath him. This could not be it. It had been weeks, month even! Briefly he considered to simply ignore the hail, surely the woman would get the message that he wished to be left alone, but a small voice in his head whispered that it would make him a coward. A coward hiding from the truth, trying to escape the consequences of his actions, running like a scared child for cover. And Vegeta was no coward, surely whatever the female had to tell him could not compare to the many punishments he had endured under Frieza.

With that thought in mind, he pressed the button to accept the call. The Video screen flickered for a second before showing Bulma in her Lab. She was surrounded by darkness, indicating that it was likely late at night, only her face was illuminated by a soft glowing source of light. Likely the small lamp on her laboratory table. Vegeta cringed at the realization that he had become so familiar with her place of work, familiar enough to memorize it and immediately call upon it the moment he laid eyes on her for the first time in months.

Her eyes looked impossibly large and bright on the big screen inside his ship and he noticed the faint smile of relief, that he had accepted the call, tucking at the corner of her lips.

"I don't mean to interrupt your time for long, I know you want to get back to training" she stated with a soft tone, giving him another small smile of- understanding? Placating? He was confused, he had expected anger, if not for the condition he was likely to be informed of, then for the fight that had taken place before he had departed. But the Woman seemed to have forgotten all about it, at least she was acting like it. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion trying to think of any ulterior motives she might have.

"But there is something we need to talk about. You have a right to know, and i wanted you to be the first. Regardless of how we left things" her voice brought him back from his train of thought and he simply gave small stern nod for her to continue.

He did not trust his mouth to form words, his stomach was knotted with an ill sense of foreboding, this was it. Whatever the woman had to tell him would either ruin his life or be utterly pathetic and not worth the fuss she was likely about to make.

"I know we agreed on keeping things between us our little secret but that is going to get difficult, because I am pregnant" she stated with confidence.

Her head was held high, shoulders pulled back with her chin sticking out higher than necessary, the picture of an independent woman. Vegeta felt his stomach drop, fighting desperately to keep his stoic mask in place but unable to repress the sudden urge to swallow. He was clearly being punished, the Universe was playing some cruel joke on him. He had just attained his freedom from Frieza, had suffered the loss of being robbed the opportunity to slay him, not once but twice. And now he had fathered a half-breed child, just like Kakarot.

He almost snorted at the revelation, a half-breed, like he was some third class idiot that had disgraced his people and spit on his Saiyan heritage by allowing Frieza to survive. Showing him mercy. What a pathetic simpleton. And now he was like him, having fallen for the tricks of a weak earthling female. Worse, his brain suddenly reeled, Kakarot had at least achieved the transformation of the Legendary while he was once again reduced to being second. He should have-

"Are you going to say something?"

Bulma's snappy voice ripped him from his train of thought for a second time since he had accepted her call. Exhaling heavily through his nose in an attempt to shake the unwelcome feeling in his stomach he direct his focus back to the woman on screen. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked thoroughly displeased, clearly silence was not the kind of reaction she had expected from him. _Then again what did she expect from him?_ Anger started boiling inside of him as soon as the question popped into his head. If she thought he was going to be tied down by a simple mistake she was wrong. He was a free man. _Finally._ A free man. He was not going to sacrifice his new found freedom to play house with a female whose head was filled with ridiculous expectations and sentiments.

"I'm a free man" his rough voice echoed his inward thoughts.

Bulma regarded him with confusion for a moment, seemingly pondering the meaning of his statement.

"I'm a free woman" she finally countered.

Now it was Vegeta's turn to be confused, did the woman did not understand? How could she be so dense? He had just told her that he was a free man, that he did not care about the happenings of her life. Squeezing the bridge of his nose Vegeta exhaled slowly, counting to 10, trying to reign his every shortening temper and patience. All he wanted was to be left alone. To train. To ascende. To achieve his destiny. To forget about the way she had moaned underneath him. _Wait, what? Where had that come from?!_

"What do you want woman?"

"I am pregnant with _your child!_ And I wanted to let you know, asshole!"

Apparently he was not the only one with a short temper. Did she really think that nice words and sweet tones would have send him running back to her?

"You did. But for some reason you have not ended the call. So, I ask again, what do you want?"

"A reaction you big stupid monkey!" she suddenly seethed.

Her eyes growing impossibly wild with the fire of anger burning inside them and he was reminded of why he had been initially attracted to her. Bracing her forearms on the desk to lean closer to the display she regarded him with a stormy gaze, clearly his declaration that he was a free man had not been understood. Humans were so dense. You had to spell everything out.

"I don't care. I fought years for my freedom and my destiny. I will not play house with a weakling like you and some half-breed mongrel simply because your species appears entirely to stupid to have conception preventing medications"

The silence that followed his statement was deafening. The woman's eyes were downcast, her brows furrowed in what appeared to be contemplative thought. She had no right to be mad. She had made him spell it out. He had tried to be nice. As he grew uncomfortable in the silence, he contemplated ending the call, not interested in her next move, and almost feeling an odd sense of disappointment at her uncommunicativeness. He had expected an outburst. Screaming, screeching, insulting, lab equipment being thrown. Just when he finally extended his hand to press the button to cut off transmission her lowered head snapped up. Blue eyes finding his black ones and piercing them from halfway across the galaxy.

"So, your problem is me not being Saiyan? Me not having any Ki or being bizarrely strong? Hence ruining your bloodline because I am a weakling and you are what?! _A prince_? Stronger than me?!" her voice was rising the the longer she talked, hands wildly gesturing along with her angry words. "I don't recall you having a problem with my lack of strength, or my major _being human flaw_ when we did _it!_ Matter of fact I seem to recall you getting off a _whole lot!_ "

His blood was boiling at this point, who did this vulgar female think she was? Nobody talked to him like that! She was downright screaming at him now and he half expected her dim witted mother to appear on the screen and minute, trying to investigate what the commotion Bulma was causing was all about.

"After all that, you better never blame this child, _my child,_ for something _both of us_ are solely responsible for"

At this point she was trying to catch her breath, having obviously spend a great amount of her pathetically small energy during the duration of her wild rant. As usual, she had worked herself into a frenzie and Vegeta had simply decided to let it blow over. There was nothing this blue haired wench could say to change his mind. The gods were surly laughing at the cruel joke their were playing on him.

He was painfully aware of his own shortcomings and the mistakes that had conspired from them. His newest being the unborn disgrace to the Siayan throne. He was the last Prince of the Saiyans, his people, their traditions, their language, their beliefs, it would all die with him. He would carry them to hell with him while time in this unforgiving dark Universe would march on without any evidence that this race had truly ever existed. Conquered. Lived.

His hands balled into painfully tight fists, he was fighting the urge to destroy something, punch a hole through a wall. Purge a planet, erase a civilization, anything to satiate the ugly black mass festering inside him. Wanting to break free. To rage. To ravage. To hurt.

One short glance at the navigation console told him that he was 35 minutes from a suitable target that could crumble under his rage. Mind made up, his dark eyes fixed on the ranting woman on screen. Tears of angers streaming down her face. When had she started to cry?!

"Will you just _SHUT UP_!" he roared, his inner beast beating against its cage wanting to be free. This was simply not happening to him. "You told me what you intended to tell me. I have nothing to say to you, I already told you, you mean nothing."

With that he cut the transmission. Extinguishing the soft glow of the video screen and with barely controlled rage setting his new course. He told himself he needed no one. He never had. He never would. And the sudden constricting feeling akin to loneliness that had befallen him when he had cut the connection would dissipate with the carnage he was about to bestow upon the next world of unsuspecting weaklings.

It always did. Experience had taught him that there was nothing a bath in the blood and terror of others could not cure. The thrill of the hunt and pumping of adrenaline could cook out emotions and problems like immense heat could evaporate everything. He was the Prince of all Saiyans and nothing would hold him back.


	15. Time marches on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it took me so very long to update this story. I was very busy and then i got stuck on how to approach this chapter. It is written from Vegetas POV , i decided to split it into dabbles that focus on situations over time after his talk with Bulma in the last chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, if you want to read more i have posted a one-shot or two since last chapter.

_“Ssshhh. It’s okay, it’s just me Vegeta” her voice softly cooed while her fingers worked their magic on the bandages on his arm. His body ached and his thoughts were a muddled mess that pulled him down towards the pit of unconsciousness, he was too exhausted to fight it, to fight her._

 

_The next time he awoke was to a cold washcloth being carefully draped across his forehead, the woman came into focus for a few seconds when he tried to open his eyes and she gave him the warmest reassuring smile he had received in his miserable life. He faintly registered her hand on his arm, traveling down over his wrist to find his own fingers and squeezing them gently, it felt nice and he did not fight it when his eyes drifted shut again. He had truly overworked himself, the explosion of the gravity room binding him to this bed, reminding him of his own mortality, but also bringing him in close contact with the blue haired female he had met on Namek before becoming her guest._

 

_She talked to him in a soft and reassuring voice, promising his nearly helpless form that everything would be alright, that she would take care of him and the small boy inside of him clung to her words, drank them up greedily, relished the unfamiliar warm feeling in his gut that her words evoked. The last thing he felt before falling into the dark pit of unconsciousness once again were soft lips against his temple and a whispered promised that she’d be there._

 

He awoke gasping and sweating, alone, on the small cot inside his space ship. His heart hammering like it usually did when he had a nightmare, but this was no ordinary nightmare. No, he was being haunted, ever since his call with Bulma a few weeks ago she haunted him. Filling his dreams with blissful memories, soft touches and whispered promises that left him feeling utterly alone and miserable every time he awoke, craving her presence like a drug.  

 

He hated it. Hated her for making him weak, hated himself for allowing this weakness to spring up in the first place, hated this new feeling of loneliness that he could not ignore. He was accustomed to being alone, had accepted it early in his life, had found ways to ignore and cope with it, but this, this was a kind of lonely he did not know how to ignore or extinguish.

 

With a deep groan, Vegeta forced himself out of bed, making the short trip to the shower and stepping in before the water had a chance to warm up. He needed to get a grip and focus on his goal. He needed to ascend. With that in mind, he scrubbed himself down as if soap alone could rid him of his dreams and this unwelcome sense of loneliness.

 

* * *

 

Vegeta found himself eating a well-deserved meal after another day of vigorous training. He was close, the transformation hovering just a step above him, but still eluding him. With the small kitchen set in partial darkness, why bothered turning on the lights when he could see just fine in the dark, he made short work of one of the many meals the woman's mother had prepared for him. Over the course of the last few months, he had forced himself to carefully ration all his reserves to avoid returning to earth any sooner than necessary.

Once he had finished his dinner and even had a small dish of dessert, courtesy of Ms. Briefs once again, he found himself lingering in the small kitchen. His ridge schedule dictated him to get up, perform a few light exercises of stretching and then go to bed, but he felt glued to his spot at the table. Almost like he was waiting for something. _Someone._

 

And then it hit him, back on the forsaken mud ball, back at Capsule Corp, he would often eat late and many times the woman would join him. Herself having just finished some gadget she had been working on in her lab, or sketching late night ideas and schematics for some crazy idea that would not let her sleep, she would show up in the kitchen and give him a warm smile before making herself a snack and sitting down with him. Sometimes she would chatter relentlessly about ideas she had, other times she asked about his training, or fuss about a wound he had sustained, whenever she was feeling brave she would even ask him about personal things. Preposterous and vulgar personal things, like what was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to him, the biggest lie he ever told and got away with, his favorite body part on a female, was he religious, was he a virgin, what did his mother look like?

 

Most of them left him ready to strangle her, but a multitude of others forced him to genuinely stop and think about his life, what did his mother actually look like? He was in his thirties and he was clueless, he was a carbon copy of his father who had never talked about his mother. At least not with him.

 

Bulma asked questions, questions nobody had bothered to ask him before because they had never legitimately been interested in him, so he grew up never bothering to ask himself either. She changed that.

 

The wave of annoyance and anger that rocked through him once he realized he was sitting in the dark reminiscing about this weak earthling was more painful and humiliating than any blow Frieza had ever landed on him. With an angry huff, Vegeta stood up, threw his dishes into the small sink and marched towards the gravity console. If he could daydream about foolish things like this he clearly had _not_ worked hard enough.

 

* * *

 

He awoke gasping for air, white hot still burning in his loins and his pelvis still grinding into the now messy sheets covering his mattress. Vegeta could only groan deeply, _not again_.

 

Ever since the woman had contacted him approximately 4 months ago his dreams had progressively gotten worse. After ending the call he had been hell bound on destroying the next suitable planet, he had set course and he had touched down, but as soon as the hatch of his ship had descended and he had laid eyes on the buzzing city before him a wave of repulsion and boredom had hit him.

 

Repulsion because they were all so utterly weak and puny, beneath him on every level. Boredom because how many times had he done this for Frieza? He knew exactly how things would go, the panic that would erupt, the screams that would follow, the fighting back, the running away and hiding, the begging for mercy, the eventual death. _Boring._

 

So he had found a place to eat and drink instead, wandered around the market and streets with a twisting sense of being lost and ultimately found himself inside one of the many brothels strewn across the city. He had left almost as fast as he came, none of the many females working there seemed right. They smelled differently, looked wrong, their skin not soft or pale enough and even the honeyed promises of pleasure sounded simply filthy. He had returned to his ship more enraged and annoyed than he had been upon landing.

 

Ever since then his dreams had turned from Frieza's torture to Bulma's soft touches and promises and ultimately spiraled into something so improper and vulgar it now awoke him with messy sheets and an aching groin that seemed to remain impossibly stiff - even after a cold shower - nearly every morning. Not even the first hormone crazed months of puberty left him feeling this out of control. His sleeping mind conjuring up acts they had indeed committed between his sheets - many hours of rutting into her with mindless lust, spurred on by throaty moans - and acts that most definitely had _not_ taken place - her hands on his strong thighs, head between them and her mouth closing wetly around his cock - had him on the edge of sanity in the wee hours of every new day. It did not seem to matter how hard he trained, how far he pushed himself, how long he evaded sleep, she was always there with him, doing things so sinful they would have made Raditz proud.

 

The evidence of one such dream was now drying cold between his legs, soaking into his sheets and Vegeta mentally resigned himself to doing laundry before breakfast once _again_.

 

* * *

 

Two months later the filtration system for the water malfunctioned and he was forced to contact the woman. He had contemplated to simply ignore the issue at hand, he had survived worse and the last thing he needed was to see her, which would most likely only fuel his already _slippery_ dreams.

 

In the end, he had decided that a clean shower every morning was worth the risk, not to mention that he need to wash his sheets. A realization that made him shake his head and anger bubble inside his chest. Taking a seat in front of the console he punched in the necessary codes to establish communication with Capsule Corp. As the computer beeped away, indicating that he was waiting for someone to answer the hail, he briefly wondered what time it was on earth and whether he was hoping for Dr. briefs or his daughter to pick up. Surely both would not be easy to deal with.

 

Before he could decide the screen flickered to life, showing the woman's lab, judging by the light floating through the windows it was afternoon. Bulma's face appeared on the screen making his carefully prepared words die in his throat, she looked exhausted. Her hair was in a messy bun, eyes puffy with deep circles underneath them and her face looked alarmingly slim. Her high cheekbones only seemed to highlight how fallen in her features were, the screen only showed her to her shoulder but Vegeta could not help the nagging voice inside his head that told him that her collarbones had not been _that_ prominent before.

 

“What did you break?”

 

Her voice was an exhausted huff, forcing his eyes to end their critical inspection of her visible body and return to her blue oceans. She looked unwell and Vegeta was unprepared for the sudden wave of worry that surged inside of him. Decidedly he stomped it down, focusing on getting to the issue as quickly as possible.

 

“The filtration system for the water is not functioning properly”

 

“Oh, that’s likely a simple fix. Let me run a diagnostic from here, it might take a sec but you can stay on the line”

 

She was already typing away on her computer before she had fully finished her sentence, eyes scanning over the screen as her quick fingers entered the necessary codes and commands. As silence settled between them Vegeta found himself studying her appearance once again.

 

“You look unwell woman” he blurted his earlier concern before he could stop himself. Her typing ceased and her eyes found his again, for a moment she seemed to contemplate whether or not she should answer him, explain herself, brows furrowed in deep contemplation she finally said,

 

“I’m doing better than a few months ago. Your son already has your ravenous appetite and I can’t seem to eat enough to sate him” she chuckled as if her next words were some kind of inside joke “never thought I would lose weight while being pregnant, he’s go- oh here it is, that was quick”

 

Her focus strayed as her computer made a dinging noise, alerting her that the diagnostic run had finished and results were ready to be analyzed. Vegeta had been unprepared for her casually spoken explanation and was now grappling with the realization that the _idiotic female_ before him had not placed the child in an incubation pod!?

 

“Are you insane woman!? Where is the god damn incubation pod that brat belongs in?!”

 

His voice was harsh, trying to deal with the sudden and unwarranted wave of worry, he did _not_ care about her or this child but how could she be so stupid?! A Saiyan child required copious amounts of nourishment and high levels of vitamins and trace elements, more than mothers could often provide the natural way, so brats were placed inside an incubation pod when it became clear that the female had reached her bodily limitations of providing for the offspring. Bulma was delicate and rather petite, to begin with, her Ki was nearly insignificant and despite everything, she had apparently managed to carry his son almost to term. It was almost to term right?!

 

“Incubation pod? What are you talking about? This is how people have children Vegeta, it’s only a few more weeks, why do you even care?”

 

There was confusion in her voice and on her face, she briefly glanced at him before returning her attention to the diagnostic results with a small disbelieving shake of her head that left him sputtering on the verge of rage. He did not care! Why was she always so presumptuous!? Vegeta accepted her following explanation of how to replace the water filter and fix the minor hick up in the filtration system without another word, his eyes remained stony and he ended the call as soon as he had all the necessary information, cutting her off in her inquiry about his well being.

 

He did _not_ care. He was the Prince of all Saiyans and he cared about no one but himself. Stomping down the hall towards the storage room ready to retrieve the needed backup filter, and then get back to training, he violently squashed the unsettling feeling of worry that he had put the _only_ person in this Universe that seemed to care for him in danger.

  
No. He. Did. _Not_. Care.


	16. Cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another Chapter, this time written from Bulmas POV.  
> Next Chapter our favorite couple will finally meet again.  
> Please enjoy and review, i always love to hear feedback not matter how short and quick it is :)

She tells her mother first, in the kitchen between pots and pans while she is cooking dinner. At first, Bulma had contemplated telling both of her parents at the same time, but while she is not worried about her mother's reaction she has slight concerns regarding her father.  
  
Just as she suspected Bunny is elated at the prospect of having a grandchild, abandoning her cooking right away to coo over her still flat stomach and spew an impressively long list of items they just _have_ to go shopping for. She makes it seem so fun and exciting that for a moment Bulma forgets her worries, for some unfathomable reason her mother is very fond of Vegeta and immediately guesses and then gushes over how adorable this baby will be. Bulma all but has to force her to return to the stove to prevent the compound from burning down. Informing her mother of this unplanned pregnancy leaves her feeling optimistic and more excited than she was to begin with, so she pauses to soak in this giddy feeling before venturing into the labs to tell her father.  
  
While her mother might have been a bit of a ditz, she was also right. She, Bulma Briefs, had everything she needed right here, she was strong and independent and this was _her_ child. There was nothing that she could not do. If Vegeta decided to stay gone she would manage, she always did. If Vegeta decided to come back she would rip him a new one, and then likely jump his bones because she was Bulma fucking Briefs and she needed no one _but also_ always got what she wanted.  
  
Feeling confident she marched down into the laboratories underneath Capsule Corp. in search of her father. He would likely be not as elated as her mother, having actually witnessed many of Vegeta's temper tantrums, foul moods, and snappy arrogant attitude. She found him in the back of his lab, reading over a blueprint while absentmindedly petting his favorite black cat sitting on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath she told him, blurting out the truth before he confidence could leave her, she knew her parents loved her and supported her but a small part of her was also worried that the man who had taught her everything might just feel a little disappointed. She was after all having a child that had been the result of a short and _hot_ fling, and the chances of her marrying Vegeta and being a family were slim to none. Her worries were unwarranted when he simply asked her if she was happy, and that he would support her in everything she did in life. Bulma could not remember a time she had hugged her father so hard.  
  


* * *

  
  
It was a few months later when she found herself lying awake in the middle of the night, she had just found out she was having a boy, her pregnancy progressing much faster than a regular human one and powerful kicks to the ribs currently kept her awake. And cravings. Oh lord the carvings, pickles dipped in chocolate mouse and fries soaked in a mayo and ketchup concoction with a sprinkle of salt. So _gross_ but also so _good._  
  
The company doctor had been more than a little surprised during the ultrasound to find the baby so far ahead in development in the last few days of her second trimester, leaving her little choice but to cautiously inform him of the fathers rather interesting origin and silently thank Kami for non-disclosure agreements. In all likelihood she would deliver him before the regular human 9 months timeline, and Bulma was just fine with that. The last few weeks had proven that the child inside of her was definitely no ordinary child, she was huge and constantly hungry, clearly, the boy had Vegeta’s voracious appetite and Bulma found herself hardly able to keep up.   
  
Since she had suffered from extreme morning sickness in the first few weeks and was now housing a calorie and vitamin sucking half Saiyan her weight had begun to decline, and her father had purchased an absurd amount of emergency survival high-calorie bars. While those did not fill her up the roughly 3,600 calories per serving and a strict supplementary vitamin regimen made things more bearable, allowing her to spend at least some hours of her day tinkering in her lab before retreating to her room and resigning herself to online shopping for the baby.   
  
Bulma rolled over carefully, trying to find a comfortable position and simply breath through her son's late-night workout. Things would be just fine, her precious baby would be here soon and she was already excited to see everyone's surprised faces in a little over a year when the would meet to face the androids.   


* * *

  
  
The doctor had told her she would likely deliver within the next few weeks, maybe even days, therefore she was having an exceptional day already, only further fueled by the rare fact that she felt unusually energized today. Yes she still looked exhausted and a little on the skinny side, but the crib she had ordered for her lab had been delivered and she had been able to put it together herself. With immense pride, she had been observing her handy work when the computer had chimed alerting her that she was being hailed. _Vegeta was hailing her._  
  
Her good mood faltered slightly, they had not spoken since she had initially informed him of this pregnancy, now she was about to deliver in a few weeks and had come to peace at the prospect of doing this all by herself. For a moment she contemplated to simply ignore the call and go about her day, but he was still the father of her child and chances were something was really wrong. Taking a deep breath she sat in her chair at the desk and accepted the call, the screen flickered for a short second and then showed a rather drained Vegeta. He appeared to be just as weary about this call as she was, clearly whatever was wrong required her help and he hated it already. Maybe the pregnancy hormones were playing tricks on her but she thought that for just a split second she saw concern flicker in his eyes as he took her in, wanting to prevent a potential argument she decided to take the first civil step.   
  
“What did you break?”  
  
At the sound of her voice, his eyes snapped to hers before he scowled fiercely at her, arms crossing over his chest in his usual stance before he finally informed her,  
  
“The filtration system for the water is not functioning properly”  
  
“Oh, that’s likely a simple fix. Let me run a diagnostic from here, it might take a sec but you can stay on the line”   _Thank you Kami, this is an easy fix._ _  
__  
_ She wasted no time pulling up the necessary program to run a diagnostic and then suddenly remembered that she ought to do the same for a new engine prototype she had been trying to fix a few weeks ago. Not particularly keen on socializing with the Prince of all Assholes she found that project in her files and started the same process. Why not kill two birds with one stone?  
  
“You look unwell woman”  
  
His voice suddenly interrupted the silence between them and she was surprised to find him studying her with that same looks in his eyes, she had assumed he was just going to sulk in silence. Bulma certainly did not have anything to say to him, for all she cared her owed her one heck of an apology. Then again he had more or less just voiced concern for her wellbeing, not something Vegeta did on the regular, actually not something he did _ever_. He was the father of her baby and perhaps he was just unsure of how to actually behave, after all he had the emotional capacity of a toddler. Deciding to be the bigger person she finally spoke,  
  
“I’m doing better than a few months ago. Your son already has your ravenous appetite and I can’t seem to eat enough to sate him” she chuckled as if her next words were some kind of inside joke “never thought I would lose weight while being pregnant, he’s go- oh here it is, that was quick”  
  
It was indeed a simple fix, the filter needed to be replaced, for some odd reason the computer on board his ship informed her that he had apparently used an _unusually high_ amount of water in the past few months that had to be filtered, thus requiring a replacement for hygienic purposes. The computer had simply shut down any function requiring the use of water till the filter was replaced and the override command was given.   
  
“Are you insane woman!? Where is the god damn incubation pod that brat belongs in?!”  
  
What kind of outlandish nonsense what is Vegeta spewing now? Bulma turned her head away from the screen and fixed her eyes on him. He looked genuinely upset, or was it worried? She was used to his pride and ego loaded speeches about his heritage and strength, but was he seriously criticizing the course of a human pregnancy?! The first few month of her pregnancy had been hormone loaded, but this close to her due-date an unusual calm, i-dont-give-a-fuck, attitude had taken a hold of her.   
  
“Incubation pod? What are you talking about? This is how people have children Vegeta, it’s only a few more weeks, why do you even care?”  
  
Bulma could only shake her head at him, she was too exhausted to take a ride on the crazy train and fight with him so she simply redirected her attention to her computer, with a few short clicks she placed where exactly the needed backup filter was located on his ship and what commands he needed for the override. All the while she could see Vegeta sputtering in disbelief at her words, he was likely angry at her for insinuating he had feelings and was, therefore, able to care. Denial was a bitch. Not that she cared.  
By the time the surly alien had hung up on her in the middle of her sentence she was too hungry to get worked up. Her unborn son demanded nourishment, and he demanded it _now._  
  


* * *

  
  
It was only 3 weeks later when Bulma awoke to a wet bed and the most excruciating pain she ever felt. Once she made it to her parent's room everything became a wild blur of frenzied movements, doctors being called, her being brought to the infirmary, hushed voices and finally, the doctor informed her that a C-section would be her best option at this point. She was in too much pain to ask questions or protest, her body had provided well beyond its limits in these past few weeks and she was too weak to care about anything but the pain to stop. In her exhausted, fragile and sweaty state she found herself distantly wondering if this was perhaps the reason Vegeta had been so adamant about a, what had he called it, incubation pod? She knew nothing about Saiyan birthing processes and the only thing keeping her from an all out panic attack was her mother's hand in hers.   
  
Then everything went numb and a few moments later she could hear a child, her son, screaming. Everything would be alright, she would be alright. Her mother squeezed her hand again, gushing over how adorable baby Trunks already was, named after her father, and how happy she was.  
  
It wasn’t until a few hours later, all stitched up and hydrated that she could fully appreciate the miracle that was her son in peace and quiet. He was tiny and for a moment she could not believe that such a small being could have demanded that much food or delivered kicks that hard, but then he grabbed her fingers and squeezed with so much might she couldn't help but think that it would have made even his father proud.


	17. Home-coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another Chapter. Hope you guys enjoy ;)  
> Also please feel free to review and leave suggestions, it always makes my day to hear from you guys plus it helps me to make sure this is a story we all enjoy :)

Trunks was almost 7 months old and slept through most of the nights like the amazing baby he turned out to be. He was interested in everything, rarely fussed - unless it was his bottomless hole of a stomach that demanded food - and already had a strong independent streak, wanting to try and accomplish everything by himself.  
  
The long hours of rest at night have done Bulma good, she feels better, less drained and definitely a whole lot more agile now that her stomach no longers gets in the way of everything. Given the exceptional appetite and growth of her son she has even started to do yoga for some more strength and energy, he is, after all, becoming pretty heavy. The scar on her lower abdomen still bothers her, it completely ruins her otherwise flawless skin and she had considered making a trip to Korin's tower for a Senzu bean just a day after Trunks birth, but decided against it. The old cat would most certainly inquire as to why she needed the magical bean and then the gossip would likely spread like wildfire. It was her mother who later pointed out that she could get it lasered at a clinic in town, the medical patient-doctor confidentiality, as well as non-disclosure agreements, would give her the privacy she still desired as well as the results she desperately wanted.  
  
Even her work schedule has returned to normal, well almost to normal, now Bulma takes breaks much more regularly than she used to in the past. Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner are now important times of the day during which she joins her parents - well at least her mother if her father is too busy - and feeds Trunks, if she has no pending deadlines on her projects she even takes some time to play with him before her mother takes over for the afternoon and takes him to the park. The little boy loves that and Bulma has found herself wondering if this is how things will always be. Just her, her parents and Trunks.  
  
She hasn’t heard from Vegeta since his water filter drama almost a year ago and has not attempted to contact him since. Her pride is holding her back, knows she does not need him here because her life truly is going just fine, and her son is a very happy baby. But a small part inside of her often whispers how nice it would be to have Vegeta here. _With them_. Bulma knows he is not a family man, his reaction to the news of her pregnancy is still vividly ingrained in her mind and she knows he is very likely too emotionally stunned to even properly comprehend the miracle that is their son. Dwelling on that fact she almost feels sorry for him, he is an exceptionally smart man with a sense of - twisted - humor, but it’s humor nonetheless yet he is emotionally completely incapable of enjoying all the new opportunities life has gifted him with. Yes, she knows he has lost a lot, everything to be honest, but he also has the tools to start over and rebuild, preserve his people just awhile longer.  
  
She doesn’t need him. She knows that, but when looking at her son or returning to her room after a long day of work she has to be honest with herself and concede she still wants him here. And that is a bitter pill to swallow.

* * *

  
It’s the middle of the night when he enters earth's atmosphere and observes the tiny specks of light grow into the concrete jungle that is West City. He has achieved his goal, _finally_. He has ascended and he feels ready to not only beat the Androids but also once and for all beat Kakarot before returning to the stars to rule them like he was always meant to be.  
  
Over the course of the last year, the unexplainable ache for the earth woman has remained the same, but he has managed to compartmentalize, just like he did with Frieza or the death of his people. It will not hold him back in carrying out his plan and wish for domination of the Universe. His return to this planet is just a stop by the side of the road, the androids will allow him to measure his new found strength and then move on to eliminate the third class clown. It will also allow him to finally take a much-needed bath and gorge on some of the delicious foods that are exclusive to earth, having run out of Mrs. Briefs meals a long time ago he had returned to the old ways. Which basically consists of stopping at a suitable planet, hunting and then Ki-frying whatever was available. Not always very tasty.  
  
This time the ship lands smoothly, almost without making a sound, over the last few months he has bothered to learn the landing sequences to avoid another crash landing that would surely announce his presence immediately. Which is precisely what Vegeta wants to avoid, having been re-acquainted with solitude he wants to preserve it for as long as possible. The arrival of the Androids is still a day and a half out, which gives him enough time for nourishment and new armor. He pauses before the sliding glass doors that lead into the kitchen, he has yet to decide if he will see his son. A part of him is curious to see how his genetics have mixed with those of the woman, another part of him is deeply appalled that he is even considering giving some mix-breed mongrel the time of day. Changing tactics last second to avoid a potential late night run in with the woman - even though her Ki is indicating she is asleep - he floats up to his balcony instead and is relieved when he finds the door unlocked. He is inside the bedroom and in his bathroom within the blink of an eye, turning on the water so the large tub can fill before he steps back into the bedroom to look for clean clothes and a towel.  
  
His room is as he left it, clean and neat. All his laundry is washed, no doubt the work of Mrs. Brief and when he inhales deeply he notes that Bulma hasn’t been in here -likely since he left. The next thing he distinguishes is the unfamiliar feeling spreading in his chest. It's as if his body has detected by smell alone that he is in a safe and stable environment that is familiar to him. Briefly, he wonders if this is what it feels like to be home before he catches himself, almost scoffing at his own stupid thoughts, and precedes to undress before returning to the bathroom with clean garments and a towel. When Vegeta lowers himself into the steaming hot water he can’t help but groan low in his throat, it feels prodigious and his muscles instantly relax. The tub is large enough to allow him to simply float in the hot soothing liquid and he is suddenly reminded of how it feels to be submerged in a Regeneration Tank. Only this time the water is warm and soothing and his bones are not broken.  
  
When he later dries off and re-dresses in a pair of sweatpants his stomach decides that it is worth the risk of running into any of the Briefs - even though it’s highly unlikely given their sleeping Ki’s. He’s padding down the hallway on silent feet when the decision whether or not he wants to see his son is made for him. The door to the child's room is open and Vegeta can see the cage-like contraption that is his bed from his position in the hallway. Since returning to earth not even an hour ago Vegeta has tried his very best to ignore his sons Ki level, but now so close that he can see the outline of the slumbering infant his curiosity wins out. His son is powerful, likely more so than even he was at birth, and before his pride can stop himself he is standing in front of the strange bed staring at the infant inside.  
  
The first thing he notices is the strange hair color and Vegeta has to grapple with the sudden realization that his genetics did not win out in regards to the coloring of his son. His hair is purple, clearly, a trait inherited from his mother, the rest though is all _him_. The angles of his face are not as sharp and defined yet, still covered by baby fat, but even Vegeta comprehends that his face is reflected in that of the infant. His Ki level is the next similarity, it’s pulsing bright, outshining everyone else in the compound but him. It’s also eerily similar to his own almost as if they are pulsing on essentially the same wave-length. The Prince witnesses almost helplessly as his own hand reaches down into the crib to brush a finger against a chubby cheek as if to verify that this is real and not another dream that will wake him gasping for air and sweat soaked. The skin underneath his fingers is soft, even softer than that of his mother - if that is even possible - and Vegeta finds himself wondering if his own skin had ever been this soft.  
  
There is an ominous feeling forming in his chest, accompanied by a small voice that is whispering that he can never leave this planet. Not truly. Not like he has done so many countless times before. Now there is a part of him that will forever be tied to this planet and no distance and time would be able to erase the knowledge that he has a son, a powerful one at that, out there. The realization rocks through him like a powerful Ki blast and his emotions stumble over another, most of them he can’t accurately name or distinguish. He is familiar with the anger suddenly boiling inside of him, because he now feels unexplainably tied down, something he never wanted for himself, much less by accident. Yet he knows that he is likely even more to blame than Bulma when it comes to the creation of his son. He had smelled her fertility, something pathetic human noses could not even pick up on, and he had kept her in his bed for two straight days anyway. The price is a permanent tie to this world and by extension her. The next emotion is an excruciating dissonance between his pride and the actual pride of having a powerful heir - ridiculous hair aside - because he should not exist, a mix-breed is a disgrace to the throne and yet his obvious power exceeds every expectation placed on any Saiyan infant.  
  
He doesn't get a chance to analyze his feelings further than that because movement from the door-frame catches his attention, and his occupied senses snap back to full control. He knows who is standing behind him before he even turns his head.

* * *

  
Suddenly she understands why she has woken up in the middle of the night - for no good apparent reason - with the inexplicable urge to check on her son. The reason was not her son, it was _who_ was with her son.  
  
His back is even wider, more muscular than she remembers and from the way his shoulders tense she knows he is aware of her presence. This is the moment she has been waiting for, the moment when she takes him aside and tells him where to shove it. But for some reason, she can’t. He is _here_. In their son's room.  
  
On silent feet she comes to stand next to him by the crib, making sure to give him enough space and her eyes are fixed on Trunks. The baby is sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the sudden tension that is filling this room and the two sets of eyes that are staring at him. In an effort to break the tension and the first ice after so many months of silence, she softly speaks,  
  
“His name is Trunks. After my father”  
  
When Vegeta doesn't respond to her words, she adds, voice just above a whisper,  
  
“Trunks Vegeta Briefs”  
  
In the last moment she hopes that he won’t be upset because she used his royal monkey name, but when his eyes snap up filled with a mix of curiosity and confusion she knows that she has surprised him. Likely in a positive manner. Bulma doubts that Vegeta would have thought she’d consider his feelings in naming the child. Vegeta Junior would have been too much, but as a second name, it has grown on her. Especially since she was not sure if Trunks was ever going to meet the man that partook in his creation. She doesn't know much about Saiyan customs or heritage, heck she doesn't know much about Vegeta if she honest with herself but she wanted to make sure that she could at least give Trunks a _tiny_ Saiyan part. Just to be sure.  
  
They remain in front of their son's crib in silence for another few minutes, and Bulma can't help but wonder if Vegeta has just stood here and looked or if he has actually reached out and touched the infant. She desperately hopes that this is a step in the right direction, that maybe, _just maybe_ this can all work out and Trunks will grow up with a father.  
  
“I’m glad you are back” she finally breathes into the silence of the night, eyes still fixed on the baby, “we missed you around here.”  
  
At that he actually shifts and looks at her, regards her fully, his undivided attention only on her as if he has a hard time grasping the meaning of her words. For a moment she wonders if anyone has ever told him that they missed him. His expression is thoughtful and his dark eyes are studying her as if he is trying to decipher if she speaks the truth. An almost pained expression briefly flutters over his features and Bulma realized that he is trying to make a decision, likely wrestling with his own emotions at this bizarre situation. Under his intense gaze, she now realizes that she is just wearing a tiny shirt and panties, and suddenly feels exposed and naked. Her body has changed and she has not yet fully grown accustomed to all the changes, is not sure if she likes them yet - while the man in front of her is chiseled like a god from marble. His sweatpants are hanging low and his bare chest has her fingers itching to reach out and touch him, make sure he is really here. Somewhere, somehow her brain faintly reminders her that she should be mad at him, that she actually is mad at him, but right now she just can’t will herself to dislike him, not with the way the deep, strong V of his abdomen looks so utterly likable.  
  
Realizing that she is obviously staring at his lower regions she tears her eyes away, only to find him still looking at her. Judging by the look in his dark eyes his thoughts have strayed in the same direction as hers but his pride is likely holding him back from acting on them. A traitorous hand timidly comes up, and with her eyes glued to his, she places it on his chest. As their skins make contact with another he exhales, and she watches the tension leave his body. He has likely made a decision. Her assumptions are confirmed when a moment later a large warm hand comes to rest on her hip, his thumb stroking over her hipbone, and his eyes drop to her mouth.  
  
She knows what comes next. Knows that she shouldn't give in so easy, that she shouldn't be so eager. But dammit it has been a long time, and to her shame, she has truly missed him. So she decides that for now, she will throw caution and anger to the wind, after all, _she_ deserves this homecoming.


	18. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Vegeta does not come off as too soft in this chapter. I tried hard to portray what he might feel like. I think he was starting to realize that he liked Bulma, and he saw the potential Baby-Trunks had, so, all in all, there was something there, slowly developing and he kind of like it, which made him really frustrated and mad at the whole situation because his plans for life are so different, and well, change is hard. I think that’s why he so pointedly ignores Bulma during the Android/Cell Saga - he’s trying to prove to himself that he doesn't care (including being an asshole to Future Trunks) - and once Future Trunks actually dies he’s forced to realize that yes he does care and he can’t keep pretending like he does not. So he stays with Bulma and his son. Just please keep that in mind when reading this Chapter - also this is Vegeta's inner turmoil and his thoughts so Bulma doesn't even know. In this chapter, he works through his flood of emotions like most men; sex, flight, denial… eventual acceptance.

She said she missed him. What a ridiculous human notion that accomplishes nothing, yet his chest contracts in a manner that he can only describe as traitorous. The woman is presumably the only person in this universe that thinks of him in such a manner; that thinks of him at all. During his time in space, he had a chance to observe life and trade after Frieza, and Vegeta was appalled to realize that the Tyrant and his legacy were already fading. Nobody even spoke about Dodoria and Zarbon, his right-hand men, who were responsible for so much terror in the realm of the living. And everyone seemed to already have forgotten the elite team of Saiyans that, not too long ago, had Planets shaking in their boots on just the rumor of their deployment. The beings of this Universe had moved on, of course, he could - no would - return to the stars and remind them of who was in charge, yet Bulma would likely be the only being that ever missed him. 

  
In fact, the woman is warm and welcoming and he is reminded of just how long it has been. He almost wants to scoff at the realization of how much he suddenly wants this close contact, how much the dreams he worked so hard to ignore and forget are coming back around full force, reminding him of the pleasure that he derives from being with her in such a manner. Vegeta reminds himself that he is a Saiyan Prince, and above those silly desires and needs.  
  
He watches as her eyes are leaving his, traveling over the expanse of his body almost as if to re-familiarize herself with his physical form, it is then that he finally allows himself to fully study her and take note of her sleep attire. The fabrics covering her are tiny, covering little of her small body and he can distinguish that she has indeed lost weight, but her arms and legs also look more toned. A small, unsought, voice inside his head whispers that it’s feasible due to the small boy in the crib. Squashing this unwelcome notion down almost violently he continues his exploration of her, has it really been so long?! Her hair is sleek now, a shorter cut that ends above her shoulders, making her hair looks even softer than he remembers. The shirt she is wearing is small and sleeveless, ending just around her navel and for a split second Vegeta believes he can make out a scar just above her pubic area that is covered by her panties, he doesn’t get much time to contemplate it because he can feel that her eyes are back on his face and he curses himself for being caught ogling her body like a pubescent boy.  
  
When his dark gaze finds her blue oceans there is lust in her eyes and to his great shame, he wants her to act upon it. The gods know he won’t reach out and take the first step because he can’t bring himself to further dishonor the throne of his people but if she acts first maybe he can indulge in what's freely offered, because, he might die while fighting the Androids, right?! Vegeta has obsessed over his potential death, it has spurred him on to achieve his goal, he will not be slain by a bunch of metal and computer programming, in fact, he is confident that he can eliminate them alone, but every now and then in the dark hours of the night there is the small whisper of gnawing doubt.  
  
So when she reaches out and touches him, he does not scoff or brush her off, but instead he is drawn in by the determination flickering in her gaze. Bulma Briefs knows what she wants and her self-confidence mixed with the fact that she has welcomed him, instead of yelled at him, invites Vegeta to place his hand on her hip. She’s tiny, more delicate than he remembers, and his thumb strokes over her hipbone on its own accord. When she leans forward and presses her lips against his own reality shrivels down till there is nothing left but the two of them, all his sense are focused on her and on full alert. Her soft hands tangling and clutching in his hair, her hips that press against his own, almost painfully reminding him how long it has been.

* * *

  
She’s kissing him and to her great relief and pleasure he’s kissing her back with barely restrained enthusiasm. He’s wider than she remembers, his muscles more defined and he smells clean and fresh. For a short moment Bulma wonders how long he has been back, but then his hand is on the small of her back encouraging her to roll her hips against his again, and all coherent thought goes out the window.  
  
Vegeta has not spoken a single word, once again she has done all the talking, but when he cups her ass and lifts her till she can wrap her legs around his firm waist she reminds herself that he is a man of action, not words. And right now his actions are telling her that he has missed touching her just as much as she has missed physical contact with him. He will likely never tell her and Bulma is surprised to realize that she does not mind, this makes her feel better than words ever could. The next thing she knows is that they are on the move, to her surprise he picks her bedroom instead of his own, on numerous occasions he has mentioned that he thinks her a slob, but now they are sinking into her silk sheets. Vegeta is right behind her, on top of her, never losing contact with his lips.  
  
He is supporting himself on his elbows above her while his hands are cupping her face, fingers spreading into her hair, and he is kissing her like a starving man. Bulma has her legs wrapped around his waist and she is doing her best to grind her damp core into the bulge of his sweatpants. All the while marveling at how much his body has changed over the past year. His muscles seem even more defined, firmer as if he has lost the last gram of non-existent bodyfat - if that is even possible. The skin underneath her fingers is the same impossibly rich honeyed tone she envies so much, apparently, the sun is not needed to sustain Vegeta's sun-kissed looked. Above all, she can feel his heart hammering against the swell of her own breast, so different from the still passionate, but much more calculated encounter before. Her core is throbbing and she is fumbling with the waistband of his pants while he has switched to palming her breast and sucking on her neck. From the way she is laying underneath him her endeavor to rid him of his pants is unsuccessful, and she moans something rather incoherent into his ear to try and encourage him to help her get these hinder-some clothes off.  
  
The world shifts when Vegeta suddenly rises to tower above her between her spread legs, her panties are wet and she herself is breathing raggedly. His dark eyes are half-lidded and never leave hers as he shrugs off his sweatpants, revealing his hard and jutting erection to the cool air of the night. Again she has to admit to herself what an exquisite specimen he truly is. The dark flame of his hair making him look impossibly tall above her.  
  
Two large tan hands reach for the hem of her small night shirt and she obediently lifts her arms above her head to assist him in the removal of her top, the moment the fabric passes her wrist it disappears, tossed away carelessly, while his thumbs have found her nipples. Bulma's fingers curl in her silk sheets as he squeezes one peak between his fingers while his other hand is trailing south to rub against her clit, all the while he is watching her, seemingly spurred on by her breathy moans of lust and approval. All she can focus on is the throbbing between her own legs and Vegeta's hands on her body, the back of her thighs feel like they are on fire from where they are touching the tops of his, still seated on his heels between her spread legs. When his fingers grasp the hem of her soaked panties her ankles come up to his shoulders on their own accord, allowing him to slide the fabric of her legs while his manhood, moist with pre-cum, nudges her own wet lips.  
  
And then Vegeta goes very still. The change is so sudden and quick, forcing her to immediately sober up and return back to reality. He is still between her legs, her ankles on his shoulders, panties discarded. It takes Bulma a moment to realize what has caused this shift in mood and behavior, following his line of sight she sees that he is scrutinizing her c-section scar on her lower abdomen. His face has returned to his emotionless mask, even his breathing has slowed to almost normal, but it is his eyes that are burning with an intensity that she can’t place. For a moment she is very worried that he finds it appalling - in the first few months after Trunks birth she herself did - but then she regards his naked chest and reminds herself that he is covered in scars. Heck, she is even sure that none of them gave life, but much rather took it. Whether it be his own or that of someone else she doesn’t know. The silence between them stretches on, his hand has traveled down her leg and his thumb is now carefully tracing the line. Vegeta's expression remains unreadable and Bulma considers the possibility that he does not know that it is related to the birth of his son.  
  
“It’s from Trunks birth” she finally informs him, careful of her tone of voice to be as neutral as possible. At that, he looks at her before his gaze flicks back down to her abdomen. When he still does not respond or move she has to fight with a flicker of frustration, she’s really horny and even from her position underneath him, she can see that he is still hard too, whatever he is contemplating and mulling over surely can wait. Determined as she is Bulma softly rolls her hips against his, trying to spur him back into action. Her blue eyes find his dark gaze and she really hopes that he can see how desperately she needs this right now, and thank Kami Vegeta seems to return, realizing the position they are both in, his hand trails from her scare to his own manhood, and he strokes himself leisurely before oh so slowly pushing into her core.  
  
Things are much less frantic and rough this time around - their previous two days together had been amazing, some of the best sex she’d ever had, but it had always been rough, hard and fast - this is different. When Vegeta slides in all the way he exhales deeply, and his hands find her thighs, angling and supporting her while he smoothly draws back and pushes back in. The rhythm he sets is steady, a continuous tip to base that has Bulma on the edge of sanity, and she can do little else but appreciate the view above her.  
  
Her long creamy legs against Vegeta's dark torso, while his head is thrown back, exposing his strong jaw and neck. His large dark hands that wrap around her legs and grip the insides of her thighs for support. The muscles of his abdominals flex with every steady thrust of his hips and there is nothing she can do but enjoy the feeling of him deep inside her while his balls steadily clap against her backside. The sight alone has the delicious pressure in her lower abdomen building steadily and when her fingers reach her clit, she comes undone under Vegeta's dark predatory gaze.  
  
She can feel her legs shaking against his body and his strong grip, and for a moment she has to focus on her own breathing because her climax is so powerful it is sucking the air out of her lungs. His tempo does not falter when he drops her legs and comes to rest on his elbows above her, lips so tantalizingly close to her own that she can’t stop herself from fisting her hand in his hair and pulling him in the final inch. Bulma can feel his orgasm in their kiss, it's an odd but pleasing sensation to have tactical confirmation of his pleasure against her own lips. 

* * *

  
He is still catching his breath when his pride scolds him that he let her too close, that this was, no is, a mistake, but his limbs feel pleasantly heavy and he is spent. The pleasing aching in his chest when he realized that her room, and most importantly her bed, smelled like her -and only her - not the weakling or any other men, was a mistake. Somewhere in his head, a small voice in whispering that this isn’t so bad in comparison to all his life has amounted to before earth, that returning to the sucking void of space might not be worth the price he has to pay - that voice is clearly a mistake too.  
  
In an attempt to make sense of his suddenly conflicting thoughts Vegeta tries to push it all down and just feel. Bulma is soft and warm underneath him, to his great shock it had displeased him greatly to see her beautiful pale skin scared like that. Because of him nonetheless. Which was a reaction that made no sense, he did not care about her, she was fine, furthermore, it was her own fault. He had specifically told her to stay away from him, _to run_ , but did the stubborn female listen? No. Gods, he was still buried inside of her. Proof enough that none of this was truly his fault, she just wouldn't stay away from him. Any pain, emotional or physical, that she suffered was not his fault.  
  
He needed to get up, eat, shower and then undertake final preparations for the androids. Return to things he knew, things he was good at, things that did not include Bulma. Or his son.  
  
Just when he was about to lift himself up and off her, her legs around his waist tensed, her hands found his face, cupping it in a manner so gentle and soft that he had to avert his eyes.  
  
“You did it, didn’t you?”  
  
Her soft question caught him off guard and when his eyes finally focused on her blue oceans, brimming with pride and adoration, it took every ounce of his self-control to hold her gaze and not shrink away like a lesser man would have done. It took a moment but then it suddenly dawned on him, she was talking about the transformation. His ascension to the legend he was prophesied to be. Another blasted thing about this woman he had to add to the list, she was not only the only one who likely ever missed him, she was likely also the only one who ever truly, wholeheartedly, believed in him.  
  
He gave a small and quick nod, completely unprepared for her next question.  
  
“Can I see it?”

She wanted to see? Surely she had seen the clown transform before, but he could not recall her eyes lighting up with anticipation and nearly unrestrained excitement when Kakarot transformed. All at once he was excited at the prospect of showcasing his achievement to someone, even more so to the only person that had supported him along the way.  
  
He untangled himself from her soft form and sat back on his heels not caring about his nudity, he focused on his Ki. Right as the glorious power reached its peak and his aura that surrounded him flicked to a vibrant gold he silently hoped that the sudden shift in energy would not wake the half-Saiyan a few doors down. He was still lost in his own thoughts and focused on controlling his Ki when Bulma's small hand made contact with his bare chest. The sudden contact forced his eyes open and he saw his own reflection in her large orbs, his aura dancing on the walls of the room, illuminating the night.  
  
The woman's face was filled with awe, and his chest constricted again, but this time with the brutal and sobering realization that this was all wrong. This was not him, and he really needed to get out of here.

* * *

 


	19. Struggles of our time

It was late at night but she couldn't sleep. Today had been a terrible day, and she had to shamefully admit that it was in part her own actions that had made it such a gruesome day.

It had all started early in the morning when she had woken up to find that Vegeta was gone. The bastard had returned to capsule corp. after his space adventure, they had made love - she refused to call it anything else - he had shown her his transformation and then he had disappeared to the kitchen. He had claimed to be hungry, and Bulma had been too worn out to protest much, she’d fallen asleep before his ravenous Saiyan appetite was sated and when she awoke only a few hours later he had been gone.

She knew she shouldn't have expected anything different from him. She even knew that she shouldn't have given in like that and slept with him. But it had been so long, he had looked so good and the way he had touched her had given her hope. Fat load of good that did her now. Her temper flared just thinking about the fact that he had once again left and dismissed her like he had done after their first time.

Well, Vegeta was in for a surprise if he thought he could just dismiss her like that. She was Bulma Briefs and she was not going to sit on the sidelines. She never did. Fueled by determination and anger she got up. Damn them all, she was going to see the Androids! Over the course of the past 3 years, she had invested just as much, if not more blood and sweat, and she had a right to see the fruits of her labor pay off. Nobody was going to leave her behind.

It was that anger and determination that had lead her to pilot her jet into the eye of the storm. Looking back she couldn't believe she had been this foolish. At the same it stung, the incident had shown her that her days of wild adventures were over, she was a mother now, and she had placed her precious baby boy in actual danger. Her wild spirit would have to take a backseat for the safety of her son, she couldn't just storm to the front lines anymore, hoping that her friends would save her.

Vegeta hadn't saved her. Had not saved Trunks. He had proclaimed that he did not care about them, and she had been unable to tell if he was trying to convince himself or if he truly meant it. These instances had become rare, at least before he had left for space, usually, she had at least a slight idea of his inner workings, but today she had failed. This man was a mystery to her, a mystery that, today, had deeply hurt her.

* * *

 

His headache threatened to split his head in two and it was not the first time he cursed the gods of the universe for putting him in this situation. All things considered, he supposed it was better to be stuck for a year with his own offspring than with some third class clown. But the boy seemed to have had inherited Bulma's curiosity and chattiness - at least once in private. He simply asked too many damn questions.

What an utter disaster his life had become. One day he was meeting his infant son for the first time and roughly 48 hours later his was confronted with the grown version of said infant in absolute solitude. Once the identity of the strange teenager from the future had been revealed Vegeta could only watch helplessly as the chubby baby features from the previous night morphed into the young adult before him. The obvious evidence and truth smacking him dead in the face, almost mocking him with his previous inability to recognize his own offspring. Even a hardened warrior such as himself could only take so much. So Vegeta chose the path of the least resistance and simply ignored him for the time being. Not the best strategy given that they were set to spend a year together in this white void, but he was going to deal with it once his headache subsides. If it ever would.

It wouldn't.

In the course of the year, they spend in the time chamber the boy proofed to be as inquisitive as his mother. Asking questions upon questions, no matter Vegeta's churlish replies and attitude, and much like his mother, he often forced Vegeta to pause and consider. While Trunks facial features and build were a mirror image of himself the boy's curious nature in regard to him was all Bulma. He was interested - just like her - sincerely interested in the person he was, the techniques he used to fight, the opinions he had, and the very origins that had once destined him to be a great ruler.

Vegeta found himself answering the odd question here and there - if only to shut the boy up - often late at night, after hours upon hours of strenuous training and heaps of food.

Yes, he remembered Vegetasei. No, he was not going to tell him about it.   
The Galick Gun technique had been taught to him by his father.  
Vegetasei had many Gods. No, he did not believe in any of them. If he did not stop grinning like an imbecile for making him tell him something about Vegetasei after all he was going to murder him. And he wasn't going to be sorry.   
Earth food was better than the food in space. Yes, Mrs. Briefs was absolutely wacky.  
The woman was special becau - Shut the fuck up and sleep!

 

* * *

 

“No no no no no….dammit!!” Bulma cursed loudly as the fabric of the blue suit ripped in two, mocking her intellect with the loud harsh sound of tearing apart.

She had been busy these past few hours, having absolutely engrossed herself in the task of producing new suit and armor for the Saiyans for the upcoming Cell games. Vegeta had barked at her that he was in dire need of new suits and armor just before he disappeared into the time chamber with their son, and Bulma would have told him just where to shove it if it had not been for the looming new threat.

Cell was disgusting and downright creepy. She was suddenly more than okay with sitting on the sidelines and assisting behind the scenes. No way she was going anywhere near this monster. Since the Z gang needed any advantage they could get she had accepted and resigned herself to the task of creating suit and armor for them. Goku's bright Gi might have been comfortable but they needed more protection.

Once Bulma had gotten started on the task she had become obsessed with trying to improve the overall stretch and protectiveness of the fabric. The concept was simple, the fabric would remain soft and stretchy under normal conditions, but if impacted with heat or force the fibers would interlock and stiffen, thus forming an additional protective layer other than the armor. Unfortunately, it was all easier said than done and her first few preliminary test runs had not turned out as promising as she’d hoped. It was not the theory, it was the fabric, she was sure of it, but limited by the resources available to her on earth.

She was Bulma Briefs, not the PTO with an unfathomable number of planets and their inventions at her exposal. Grinding her teeth in determination she reset the composition calculations for the material and set up to try again. She was set on amazing everybody by having these babies ready before her future son and ever grump baby daddy got out of the hyperbolic time chamber.

* * *

 

He had no idea why, but he waited. Not patiently, no he paced his room like a caged animal while watching the time dwindle by on the small alarm clock on his bedside table. Why the boy needed a haircut before he resumed his training was beyond him. Gods of Vegetasei be damned, if he was being honest it was even beyond him how he ended up with such a ridiculous hair color. Purple, or Lavender how the woman liked to call it, no self-respecting Saiyan had light hair. His genetics should have won the fight of superiority, just like they had in Kakarot's spawn. Even that low class good for nothing imbecile had a son that looked more like a true Saiyan than his own brat did. The royal line reduced to a half-breed with purple hair. How the mighty have fallen.

For a short moment, Vegeta was not sure if he should include himself in that statement. His super Saiyan transformation had been utterly useless against the androids - beaten by a woman as frail looking as a stick - and then he had lost the upper hand in the fight against cell when he had let him achieve his final form.

The Cell games. That's what they were all here waiting, for now, they had been glued to the TV waiting for the announcement from the freak of nature himself. It didn't matter though, they still had a few days and with the room of spirit and time on their side, he was sure he was going to win this time. He was finally - finally - going to prove that he was the strongest of them all. That he was the more battle hardened warrior, and most importantly - that he was deserving of being the Prince of all Saiyans.

Said Prince of all Saiyans was currently waiting in his bedroom for the future version of his son to be given a haircut by his mother. It was not even the most absurd thing that had happened to him within the last few days. How the mighty have fallen indeed, Vegeta has suppressed a shudder at re-visiting this realization. Surely his father was gravely disappointed by him and rolling in his grave for all eternity upon learning what his son had done with his new-found freedom so far. Developed an obsession for a feeble alien woman, fathered a half-breed, repeatedly beaten by a third class nothing and now fighting along earthlings to defend the future of this mudball.

A soft knock on the door shook Vegeta out of his thoughts. Before he could fully acknowledge the person behind the door and command them to leave him the heck alone Bulma appeared in the doorway. Insufferable wench never learned when to just leave him be. She gave him a soft smile before informing him that Trunks was outside in the yard and ready to go. Apparently, their little bonding session about humans genes and the detestable hair-growth that came with it was over.

Bulma already had turned to leave, doorknob in hand, but she paused and cast him a thoughtful glance over her shoulder. _Gods, she was gorgeous_. Not again!

“Trunks is pretty great Vegeta. Any version of him. He deserves to be given a chance” her voice was soft and honest. Maybe even sad? What in Dendes name did the woman have to be sad about Vegeta wondered? It was none of her business how he treated someone that should have never existed, someone that disgraced his Royal heritage.

“Kinda like you” she added after a few moments of tense silence.

“Like me?” He heard his own voice echo foolishly. Yes, perhaps she was right. If Frieza would have gotten his way he would no longer exist, and given his long list of offenses, maybe the Royal line currently wasn’t so proud of his existence either. But that was none of her business, how dare she assume something like that! He would show her w-

“Yes, pretty great. And deserving of a chance” She smiled, and the door clicked shut behind her. Leaving a stunned Vegeta in the silence of his own bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I am sorry it took me so long to update!  
> I had extreme writers block and a lot of new adult responsibilities - but we are nearing the end of this story and i have already started writing the Epilogue. So this time the wait should not be so long.
> 
> I have also written another one-shot (Midnight Treats) so feel free to check that out. Currently playing around with an idea for an AU once this story is finished - but no promises yet. 
> 
> As always, please read and review - your feedback always makes my day :) Thank you for reading


	20. Epilouge

It was quiet at Capsule Corp. a rarity given the past few days and how hectic they all had been. The Z gang had returned to their respective homes and lives, everyone but Goku that is, and the initial shock of having lost her oldest friend had worn off. It had transformed into a dull throbbing pain in the back of her mind, one she was not sure would ever truly go away.

She felt for Chichi but was unable to bring herself to face the woman, after all, she knew that nothing she would say could make the mother of Gohan feel any better. Not to mention that Bulma was worn out, drained. Emotionally and mentally.

Meeting the teenage version of her baby son had been an exciting adventure, but it had also given her much to think about. This Trunks had grown up without a father, in a world filled with hurt and devastation. All his sacrifices, in the end, served her, and her alone. She was blessed with a second chance. A second chance at life. And love. Because despite the odds Vegeta was still here. Alive and breathing.

Over the course of the Android attack and the following disaster that had turned out to be cell and his little game, Vegeta had been presented. Either training with - or without - Trunks, but always returning back to Capsule Corp. for food, and other accommodations, he even went as far as taking a short break, watching the cell announcement on TV with them - dressed in human clothes no less. Things between them had been tense and yet Bulma had secretly swooned when she saw him in his yellow shirt. It was not often that he dressed in Earthling attire - even though he had a wide variety of nice outfits at his disposal - but every time he did Bulma's chest constricted with hope, that maybe, just maybe they could make it work. That they both weren’t too different for this. Their interactions during that time had been few and far between, she had chosen to focus on her teenage son and her small infant while Vegeta chose to focus on battle and training. Little had been resolved during that time and there had been a moment when she had outrighted believed that it would be better if he just left. Future Trunks had turned out to be a great young man, despite his horribly hard life, she would be able to raise her baby in peace; and if Vegeta wanted no part of it then she’d be fine with that.

Those moments of extreme confidence had not lasted long. Yes, she was an independent and smart woman, technically she needed no man, but she wanted her son to have a father. Some of her own most precious memories involved her father, and she wanted that for Trunks. Not to mention that Vegeta was the only being in existence that knew what to expect from a young Saiyan growing up. He was the only one who’d likely be able to answer many of Trunks questions and problems he might struggle with while maturing into the young man she had met. Problems and questions that were conceivably out of her range of expertise; simply because she was human after all.

Now with the cell games behind them and a peaceful future ahead of them, Bulma was unsure of how to proceed. Her parents had taken her son for a walk by the beach, promising to keep him in the shade as much as possible, and Bulma had resigned herself to doing yoga with the hopes of calming her overactive mind.

She was lost in her own thoughts, focusing on her own breathing and holding the poses right, so focused in fact that when she saw him standing in the doorframe, observing her with barely restrained curiosity, Bulma did not even startle. Instead, his presence made his way into her awareness as if floating through a thick cloud of cotton candy. He looked funny, upside down like this and Bulma lingered in the downward dog for a few breaths longer before releasing the pose and returning to the mat.

When she turned around to grab her water bottle for a quick break he was still standing in the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, observing her with interest in his dark gaze. A cutting remark was burning on Bulma's lips, but she remembered everything the future version of herself had sacrificed in order to give her this second chance. She was not going to squander that.

“I’m doing Yoga. It's great for flexibility”

Not the best start to the conversation they actually needed to be having - was he going to stay on earth - but it was a start. Vegeta only raised an amused brow at her before shaking his head and pushing off the doorframe, coming to sit on the sofa across from her mat. She hated when he did that, showing up without saying a word, and not responding verbally until she asked the question he wanted to be answered. It could be irritating, to say the least. Putting her water bottle down and returning to her mat Bulma continued her practice, while in a halfway lift, she carefully observed his sitting form from the corner of her eyes, he, in turn, was observing her, his face unreadable. Giving him a shy smile her eyes returned to the mat. Get it together Bulma!

“Wanna join me?”

Despite her flirtatious tone, Vegeta did not take the bait, he remained silent and unmoving, observing her with eyes that seemed to have focused on a reality only he could see. Bulma continued her practice, her controlled inhales and exhales filling the room while she fluidly moved through a variety of poses, all the while contemplating the presence and surely silence of her son's father. After a long period of silence, having successfully completed her practice for the day, she found herself sitting on the mat, determined that when she left here, she would know where they stood. Where her life was going to go.

“It’s strange when it’s so silent isn’t it?” she broke the ice, not really expecting an answer she pushed on. “It was so hectic these past few days, there was so much purpose in these past few years and now it's just gone. Puff ...this monumental task and we have to re-orient ourselves.”

She trailed off, somewhere during her short rambling Vegeta's eyes had focused and found hers, his face was stoic as usual, but if the glint in his eyes was any indication she had hit the nail squarely on the head. They had lost their purpose, so consumed with the task of defeating the androids that they had made little plans for the future after them. Vegeta had trained like a mad man and she had assisted by building him battle drones and attack robots, updating his Gravity room and taking care of him. Now even Goku was dead. Everything seemed strange and perhaps even a little empty. They were lost. He likely even more than her. Not that he would ever admit that.

“Trunks is starting to walk. He’s not quite there yet, but he's very determined - like you. You could start training him soon, he has lots of energy, and after punching me square in the shoulder the other day, he definitely has the aptitude.” She now almost giggled at the memory of Trunks getting her in the shoulder during a diaper change. No denying he was Vegeta's kid.

At that Vegeta perked up, “He punched you?”. His tone an indistinguishable mix of humor, surprise and perhaps a hint of concern. Maybe pride? Bulma nodded, a small smile stretching her lips when she pulled the collar of her shirt to the side, exposing a small fist sized bruise underneath her collarbone right by her shoulder.

Silence settled between them once more and Bulma was in the middle of working out how to approach the topic regarding his future plans again, she had hoped he would react to her offer to train his son when his voice interrupted her thoughts.

“You put him in danger. You should never have been there.”

His eyes were hard and cold now, and she knew immediately what he was referring to. The incident when Dr. Gero had attacked her small Jet because she had shown up to the battle, with Trunks in tow. Shame mixed with anger when she recalled the events of that day. Yes, it had been foolish to risk her life like that, but Vegeta wasn’t one to talk.

“Right, I shouldn’t have been there” she conceded icily, “But you should have saved us. You did nothing to help us!”

Vegeta's eyes scanned her face before focusing intently on the mat in front of her knees. He had been unprepared for her admission, and even more for her accusation of his own guilt.

“You were a target of opportunity. Everything else would have just made you a real target”

His voice was low, the words forced. She could tell by the way he was not meeting her eyes, his right hand squeezing down on the bicep of his left arm. It was indirect, but Bulma knew it was all she was going to get. At least for now. Vegeta was not the kind of man that apologized, his words often had to be scanned for a deeper meaning. Yes, she had been a simple target of opportunity and Vegeta believed any reaction from him would have made her an even bigger, an actual deliberate, target. She accepted the fucked up, and likely very Saiyan way of saying, _I care. And I'm still very uncomfortable with it._

The silence stretched between them, neither meeting the other's eye when had it become so awkward? It was as if the air between them had deflated - usually, it was loaded with tension, arguments and a never ending battle of wits; now they both just seemed exhausted. Vegeta had slouched on the couch - something she had never seen him do before, he always held himself with military-like grace - and she became aware of her own shoulders having rolled forward.

She was Bulma Briefs, and she was sitting in the presence of actual royalty, they were not going to mope around. Not on her watch!

With new found determination she picked herself up off the floor, rolled up her yoga mat and then leveled her gaze at Vegeta, who had perked up at her sudden flurry of movements.

“Come on big guy we are gonna have a snack”

Her voice rang rich with determination, and before Vegeta even had the chance to interject anything she pivoted on her heels and marched out the room towards the kitchen. She could hear him clicking his tongue in obvious irritation at her order but then she caught the tell-tale sign of ruffling clothes and she knew he was hot on her heels.

By the time Vegeta made it to the kitchen Bulma had already opened the fridge, set on making some damn comfort food before getting back to life. She was done with the depressed mood, the indecision, and the sudden awkwardness. If he could not voice his decision - and kami was she sure he had actually already made one, Vegeta always had an opinion, knew what he wanted - then she was going to do it her way until he voiced his displeasure. If that happened she’d adjust course from there, but she was not going to be waiting around.

By the time the first batch of waffles was done, she had already raided the fridge once more, taken out a variety of different jams and jellies, freshly washed blueberries, and strawberries as well as syrup and even plain yogurt. She liked to get creative when it came to waffles, simple syrup had never done the trick for her. The Saiyan had simply watched her go about her task in silence, arms crossed over his wide chest, and she once again had to admit how handsome he looked in human clothes.

They ate in silence, this one a lot more comfortable than the one before. Bulma had made enough waffles to feed a juniors soccer team, but knowing the insatiable stomach of a Saiyan this was snack size, and to her great delight Vegeta even experimented with a variety of the toppings she had spread out earlier. He seemed to particularly enjoy slathering yogurt on the waffle before topping it with fresh berries and devouring it with three large bites. This man across from her was alien and rough around the edges, honest to a fault and pretty damn arrogant, but she had to admit she was glad he was here.

She felt safe in his presence, which was ridiculous, given that he had hung her out to dry during the Android fiasco, but Bulma was willing to give him another shot. After all, she really should not have been there, shame filled her once again at the thought of how reckless she had been with the safety of her child. They both weren’t perfect.

Vegeta was still busy finishing his last stack of waffles when Bulma decided it was time to make her next move. She stood to retrieve a notepad and a pen, setting both on the table while plopping back down into her seat and waiting for Vegeta to finish his small feast. He was eating with gusto, she could tell, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she observed him. A quick glance at the clock told her that her parents should be back with Trunks soon, and she wanted to do this while it was still just the two of them.

When he was done, and his dark gaze finally unfocused from the plates, finding her own eyes, she slid the notepad and pencil his way.

“Write down any update and improvement you wish to be installed in the Gravity Room”, she observed his eyes grow dark and irritated, yes she had heard about his declaration to never fight again, and she did not believe a single second of it. In order to prevent him from interrupting her, she held up her hand, fixing him with a determined stare and continued, “It doesn't have to be right now. Take your time. I know you got some great ideas in that thick head of yours, and don't even start with the whole ‘i’ll never fight again’. That’s crap, you are a warrior, take a break, reassess, come back stronger and don’t you dare” she pointed an accusatory finger at him “let Goku and his death influence your drive. You are the Saiyan Prince, remember?!”.

Bulma got up before Vegeta had recovered enough to shoot down her little speech, she truly hoped that she had not pushed him too far. Vegeta was a driven man, determined to the point of obsession and she feared what might happen to him if he were to lose this drive. Admittedly he needed time to find a new direction and task, the androids and cell had left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone, but it would do him no good to fall into a directionless depression.

Stalking out of the kitchen she was grateful to hear the tell-tale sign of a key turning in a lock, the front door, her parents were back with Trunks. She knew Vegeta was still too uncomfortable to chase her down to continue this argument in front of his infant son.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder she saw him still sitting in the kitchen, staring at the notepad with what could only be described as befuddlement. _He really was cute_. From the door she could hear the excited babble of their young son, he was going to have a father.

“I’ll see you tonight, Vegeta!”

She herself wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, just that she hoped he would stay, lift himself out of this despondency and somehow things would work out. A small flicker of hope blossomed in her chest as she wondered if he’d really still be there tonight.  
  


* * *

 

The moon was high in the sky, indicating how late it was. He had defied her, being the stubborn individual that he was, nobody was going to order him around. So he had stayed here, in the desert, high up on a boulder with the notepad by his side.

He had found himself writing down improvements and thoughts against his wishes, had watched as his traitorous hand had put thought to paper. Almost in trance, he stared down at his own neat writing, _eliminate the middle column for more space, remove some drones from sight_ , it would force him to concentrate on other senses, _change conditions of visibility_ , in a true battle visibility often changed at random, the list went on and on. What he should have done was leave, take the ship and get the hell away from this measly planet. Nothing held him here on earth. The Androids were defeated, he had ascended, his rival was dead. For the first time in over two decades, he was truly a free man, with the means to go wherever he wished. The galaxy was his for the taking.

Yet the thought itself held little appeal. He already knew what it was like to destroy worlds, have beings begging at his feet. Space was a cold and sucking void, dark and endless like the pain and anguish he had suffered while being immersed in it. His people were dead, no more true, full blooded Saiyan males, no Saiyan females, he was the last remaining Saiyan. A ghost among the stars. No amount of conquering and blood would be able to change this fact.

Unwillingly Bulma's last words came to his mind _“I’ll see you tonight, Vegeta”_. Her eyes had shone brightly, the most magnificent blue he had ever seen. Had anyone ever looked forward to seeing him? He doubted it. He was a murderous monster with an empty title and no people, and yet this woman, so like a Saiyan and so not, had given him chance after chance. She had given him a son he knew for certain he could give nothing. He had nothing to give, he never had. All his life Vegeta had been the one to take, he simply did not know how to give. Perhaps pain, he knew how to inflict and give that, but he knew with earth shattering certainty that he did not want that for his son.

His son. What a preposterous thought, he had a son. A half-breed no less. Yet hadn't he just established that there was not a single Saiyan woman?! No more Saiyans at all to be exact. From here on out it would be mixed breeds, no matter who he mated with, no matter who Kakarot's spawn mated with. This was his best shot at preserving his people a little while longer. This small rock floating on the outermost edges of the galactic trade routes. It was relatively safe from old foes that might hold grudges against him for days past, and that was if the rest of the universe did not believe him already dead. Vegeta had to suppress a dark maniac laugh at the thought, he was not dead. Not by a long shot, but he often felt like he was supposed to be. He should have died with his people, his planet, and if not with them then during his service under Frieza, he should have stayed dead after Namek, heck in an alternate timeline he was dead by the hands of the androids. Death seemed to be right on his heels and the Saiyan Prince was not sure how he had evaded him this long. Destiny suddenly seemed like a twisted, treacherous thing.

His eyes drifted back to the notepad. _I’ll see you tonight, Vegeta_. She was soft and warm, smelled clean and feminine, intelligent and fierce, stubborn like himself. Bulma Briefs was a Queen in her own right, with a deeply rooted strength that went beyond muscles, caring and forgiving. In this life she lived, she needed for nothing, yet she wanted him. Vegeta knew that she had never directly told him, but actions always spoke louder than words. She was his if he wanted her.

And wasn’t that where the true problem lie, he wasn’t sure if he wanted her. Vegeta always knew what he wanted. He wanted to defeat Frieza, he wanted to avenge his people, he wanted to grow stronger and ascend, he wanted to beat Kakarot and the Androids. But did he want the woman and this life that came with it? A part of him screamed, with a desperate savage and selfish need that he wanted her, the way he could lose himself in her, the way she eased this festering pain inside of him. Another part, his pride, cautioned him of the weakness he was creating. A weakness so strong that should it ever be exploited no amount of his Saiyan strength would be able to save him from the pain he would experience. Vegeta snorted at the mere thought, his greatest pain would always be the loss of his people. Were Bulma and Trunks his people?

Perhaps they were. Bizarre hair and coloring aside, the future version of his son had been all him. The shape of his eyes, the strong jaw, and eyebrows, the built of his body right down to his hands. All him. Would turning away, leaving this world and his son behind, make him no better than his own father? A man who had traded him like a pawn for a false promise of peace, condemning him to a life of servitude, without as much as the blink of an eye. It suddenly occurred to him that it was feasible that even back then, back on planet Vegeta, back in the palace, back among the very people he had been destined to rule, his title had been empty. Imaginably he was just a placeholder, something, no worse, someone, that was interchangeable. Another heir could always be born.

Vegeta now had the option to choose what life he wanted to live, a moment he had dreamed of growing up, fantasized about during his adolescence and planned during his preparation for the Androids. All of these dreams, the years he had spent musing over them, lacked their luster now, and he had to begrudgingly admit that he was lost. Not something that was befitting of a Saiyan Prince. No matter how empty the title.

His dark gaze drifted back towards the notepad.

His son's features were soft and relaxed, deep asleep, the baby-fat ever so slowly receding, giving just the barest hint of the sharp and chiseled features he would be sharing with his father some years from now. He would be walking soon, the woman had informed him earlier, given him the freedom to start training him. Vegeta was not sure how to train something so small and seemingly helpless. Maybe he could start with some balance exercises and move on to katas? He remembered being taught those very early in life, an endless act of fluid motion and balance that had in hindsight aided him tremendously in finding his own fighting style. Not to mention that the gravity on this planet was laughable, any true Saiyan should grow up being used to the enormous gravity on Vegetasei. He could add that in with the Katas.

Bare feet carried him down the hall to the woman's bedroom, the door was slightly ajar as if left in open invitation and he let himself in, dropping the notepad on her nightstand. Her and their child shared the same peaceful sleep, both breathing deeply seemingly without a care in the world. Blue haired spilled over her silken pillows and in the pale moonlight, Vegeta noted how truly delicate she was. Not only her facial features but her body, her bone structure and build were petite and shapely. So different from any Saiyan woman he could remember, yet she had given him a son with enough power to put a full blooded Saiyan infant to shame. The future version of Trunks had been strong, despite the less than favorable conditions of his youth, and Vegeta was curious how much more lay dormant, how strong the infant down the hall could become with proper training and guidance.

“Just lay down, it’s late”

Her voice was drowsy with sleep, startling him out of his own thoughts, and her eyes closed the second the last word had left her lips. For a moment Vegeta was unsure if she had actually been awake or if she was talking in her sleep. Eyeing the empty side of her bed he contemplated the consequences of lying down next to this woman, he had never shared a bed with her, not unless physical intimacy had been involved. But it was late and this bed, in comparison to his own, was warm, it even smelled more inviting. Ignoring his pride he carefully lowered himself down onto the free space of the mattress, his shirt laying discarded on her floor. Tucking his arm behind his head Vegeta stared at the ceiling, listening to Bulma’s deep and rhythmic breathing, the low hum of the insects outside that a gentle breeze carried through the open doors of her balcony.

After a few minutes, the darkness of sleep already pulling on his conscious mind, the woman turned in her sleep, lips slightly parted her breath softly feathering against his shoulder, and Vegeta was suddenly reminded of the first night they had ever shared a bed together. After her fight with the inferior male that was her ex. It had taken him a while to fall asleep that night, but when it had finally claimed him, his sleep had been peaceful, nice. Maybe it would be too this time.

* * *

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it eventually had to happen, it's over.  
> Thank you so much to all of you who left Kudos, read and reviewed and encouraged me to keep going.  
> This has been an incredible journey of finding my own style after many, many years of not writing a single thing.  
> I'll be participating in smut-fest this October so be sure to come around for that :) I'll also be working on an AU, but no promises on when the first chapter will be posted - it's all still in the rough. 
> 
> A special thank you to my friend Sarah, for being my biggest cheerleader throughout this story, letting me bounce ideas and complaints off her endlessly, and encouraging me to keep writing. Thank you.


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